UC-NRLF 


.PUBLIC 

THOUT   A 

PRESIDENT 

_— — - ~~ — 

•  HERBERT-  D-  WARD 


AUTHOR  Of 

'THE  NEW  SENIOR  AT  A 


\N  XS 


A   REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT 

AND   OTHER   STORIES 


A   REPUBLIC    WITHOUT    A 
PRESIDENT 

AND  OTHER  STORIES 


BY 

HERBERT  D.  WARD 

AUTHOR   OK 

"THE    NEW    SENIOR    AT   ANDOVER,"     "THE    MASTER    OF   THE 
MAGICIANS,"   ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

TA1T,  SONS  &   COMPANY 
UNION  SQUARE 


COPYRIGHT,  1801. 


HERBERT  D.  WARD. 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A.  PRESIDENT, 


PART  I. 

ON  the  morning  of  the  eighth  of  June,  1  893,  at  about 
ten  o'clock,  crowds  were  seen  clustered  in  front  of 
the  daily  newspaper  bulletins  in  New  York,  Chicago, 
Philadelphia,  San  Francisco,  and  Boston.  The  ex 
citement  rivalled  that  occasioned  by  the  assassina 
tion  of  Garfield,  and  by  night  the  country  was  as 
bewildered  and  aghast  as  when  the  news  came  that 
Lincoln  was  murdered.  This  was  the  announcement 
as  it  appeared  in  blood-red,  gigantic  capitals  by  the 
door  of  the  New  York  Tribune  building  : 

UNPRECEDENTED    CALAMITY  ! 
AWFUL    MYSTERY  ! 

THE  PRESIDENT    AND   HIS  WIFE     SPIRITED    AWAY  FROM 
THE  WHITE  HOUSE  ! 

TWO    SERVANTS  FOUND    GAGGED  ! 

463173 


6  A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

NOT  A  TRACE  OF  THE  DISTINGUISHED  COUPLE  ! 

THE  COUNTRY  AGHAST  AT  THE  DREADFUL  POSSIBILITIES 
OF  THIS   DISAPPEARANCE  ! 

Extras  found  enormous  sales,  but  they  contained 
no  more  news  than  this.  Business  was  brought  to 
a  standstill  and  stocks  fell  in  half  an  hour  from 
five  to  twenty  per  cent.  The  land  was  convulsed. 
It  was  true  that  there  were  those  who  thought  the 
whole  thing  a  colossal  hoax  perpetrated  by  the 
defeated  party.  But  as  time  went  on  the  startling 
and  incredible  news  was  confirmed.  The  evening 
edition  of  the  New  York  Sun  had  these  ominous 
headers. 

THE  PRESIDENT    AND   HIS    WIFE  HAVE    ACTUALLY    DIS 
APPEARED. 

THE  GAGGED    SERVANTS    OF    THE     WHITE  HOUSE    TELL 
THEIR    STORY. 

THEY  ARE      IN  PRISON  ON    GRAVE      SUSPICION  OF     CON 
SPIRACY. 

THE  CARD  OF    AN  EMINENT  POLITICIAN    FOUND  IN    THE 
VESTIBULE  OF  THE  EXECUTIVE  MANSION. 

IS  A  DARK  POLITICAL    PLOT  ABOUT  TO  BE  UNEARTHED  ? 

The  next  day  found  the  situation  unchanged. 
Humors  of  every  description  ran  wild.  Tele- 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.  7 

grams  of  condolence  from  all  the  sovereigns  of  the 
world  were  received  at  Washington  by  the  dazed 
Department  of  State.  These  were  fully  given  to 
the  omnivorous  press.  By  order  of  the  Vice-Pres- 
ident,  all  other  news  was  for  the  present  rigorously 
withheld  from  publication.  To  this  censorship  the 
press  submitted  cordially.  Mystery  was  brooding 
over  the  land,  and  despair  laughed  detectives  in  the 
face.  Men  met  each  other  and  asked  only  this 
question : 

"  Have  they  been  found  ?  " 

A  sad  shake  of  the  head  always  followed. 

"  No  wonder,"  the  Governor  of  Massachusetts  was 
heard  to  say,  "  with  thousands  of  assassins  coming 
over  here  every  year.  Even  our  President  was  not 
safe.  God  help  our  country !  " 

At  the  end  of  a  few  days  the  full  news,  as  far  as 
it  went,  was  published,  and  the  nation  then  drew 
its  second  breath.  The  facts  about  this  stupendous 
abduction,  as  given  to  the  public  by  the  end  of  the 
week,  were  briefly  these :  This  is  the  affidavit  of 
the  night  sentry,  who  was  stationed  in  the  vesti 
bule  of  the  White  House. 

"  My  name  is  George  Henry.  I  am  thirty-four 
years  old.  I  was  born  in  this  country.  My  father 
was  a  slave.  It  was  about  one-thirty  last  night 


8         A   REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A   PRESIDENT. 

when  I  was  aroused  by  a  double  rap  at  the  main 
entrance.  I  was  not  asleep,  but  I  may  have  been 
a  little  sleepy.  I  asked  who  was  there,  and  a  voice 
answered  that  the  Secretary  of  State  wished  to  see 
the  President  on  business  of  the  greatest  importance. 
I  answered  that  the  President  was  in  bed.  He  said 
that  he  must  see  the  President  immediately.  Then 
I  thought  I  recognized  the  voice  of  Mr.  Secre 
tary.  I  opened  the  door  and,  sure  enough,  Mr. 
Secretary  entered.  He  had  on  a  silk  hat  and  the 
gray  overcoat  he  usually  wears.  lie  gave  me  his 
card,  and  told  me  to  take  it  right  up  to  the  Pres 
ident.  The  door  was  left  open  and  I  noticed  it 
was  raining.  The  carriage  of  the  Secretary  was 
standing  under  the  portico.  I  did  not  see  the  coach 
man.  When  I  bowed  and  turned  to  go  upstairs 
there  was  a  strange  smell  in  the  air,  and  I  remember 
nothing  more." 

The  cross-examination  brought  out  from  the 
prisoner,  who  seemed  to  answer  honestly  and  intelli 
gently,  that  he  was  sure  it  was  the  Secretary  of 
State,  but  his  voice  seemed  changed  by  a  cold.  He 
felt  positive  about  the  carriage,  for  he  recognized 
the  team,  a  gray  and  a  black.  He  heard  no  voices 
outside.  When  chloroform  was  produced,  he  said 
that  was  the  same  smell,  but  there  was  something 


A   REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A   PRESIDENT.         9 

more  that  was  considerably  tarten.  He  persisted  in 
the  same  story,  and  repeated  it  over  and  over  with 
out  variation.  It  looked  dubious  for  his  excellency 
the  Secretary  of  State. 

The  next  witness  was  the  night  sentry  on  the 
second  floor.  He  was  badly  frightened,  was  a  little 
confused,  but  told  a  straight  story.  His  deposition 
was  as  follows : 

"  Yes,  sah,  my  name  is  Frank  Steven.  I  have 
alluz  been  a  colored  man.  I  was  bahn  in  Ohio  when 
I  was  twelve  years  old."  [At  this  juncture  a  glass 
of  ice  water  restored  the  equilibrium  of  the  witness.] 
"  I  moved  to  Ohio  when  I  was  twelve  years  old.  I 
was  born  in  Mississipy.  I'm  forty- two  now,  I  think. 
It  might  have  been  half  after  one  or  two  when  I 
heard  a  step  a-coming  up  the  stairs.  I  went  to  the 
landing  and  saw  Mr.  Secretary  of  State  a-coming  up 
with  his  hat  on  ;  and  how  he  got  there  the  Lawd 
only  knows.  He  told  me  to  show  him  to  Mr.  Presi 
dent's  room.  He  spoke  mighty  sharp,  and  I 
thought  it  was  all  right,  so  I  led  the  way.  When  I 
was  a-going  to  knock  at  Mr.  President's  door,  he 
told  me  to  stop  and  have  a  cigar  first.  He  never 
offered  me  one  before,  and  I  was  mighty  surprised. 
There  was  a  strange  smell,  like  an  apothecary  store 
and  I  don't  know  anything  more  about  it,  That  is 
all  I  know,  sir." 


10          A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

Subsequent  examination  brought  out  no  new  fact, 
except  that  the  prisoner  remembered  that  the  Secre 
tary  coughed  behind  a  handkerchief  as  he  spoke, 
and  that  one  hand  was  concealed  under  his  gray 
overcoat;  this  was  pulled  over  his  ears.  The  thing 
that  struck  him  most  was  that  the  Secretary  kept 
liis  hat  on  during  the  whole  interview.  The  watch 
man  had  never  known  him  to  keep  his  hat  on  in  the 
house  before.  Like  the  first  witness,  he  recognized 
the  odor  of  chloroform,  and  thought  there  was  some 
thing  else  besides.  He  was  surprised  to  find  himself 
gagged  and  bound  when  he  came  to. 

As  the  two  witnesses  corroborated  each  other,  and 
as  neither  had  any  communication  with  the  other, 
they  were  substantially  believed.  The  fact  that 
this  testimony  was  indisputably  damaging  to  the 
Secretary  of  State,  and  the  further  circumstantial 
evidence  of  his  card  having  been  recovered  from  the 
floor  of  the  lower  vestibule,  caused  the  investigating 
committee,  of  which  Inspector  Byrnes  was  the  chair 
man,  rigorously  to  exclude  all  reporters,  lest  the 
evidence  might  make  it,  to  say  the  least,  uncomfor 
table  for  the  suspected  dignitary.  It  was  natural 
that,  by  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  drama, 
a  secret  guard  should  be  placed  over  the  head  of  the 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.         11 

Department  of  State,  though  no  movement  was  made 
as  yet  toward  his  arrest. 

The  next  witness  of  importance  was  the  Presi 
dent's  valet,  who  swore  that  the  President  retired 
unusually  early  that  night  and  dismissed  him  with 
the  special  injunction  that  the  house  should  be  kept 
quiet,  as  the  President  had  a  headache  and  wished 
perfect  rest. 

It  may  be  well  to  state  here  that  the  new  incum 
bent  of  the  presidential  chair  shared  with  his  wife 
the  traditions  of  Jeffersonian  simplicity  of  living,  and 
that  they  departed  so  little  from  their  original  home 
habits  that  house  detectives  were  abolished,  and 
the  distinguished  pair  lived,  entertained,  and  slept 
with  as  scant  formality  as  the  sovereign  people 
allowed.  The  doors  communicating  with  their  sleep 
ing  apartments  were  rarely  locked.  Full  depend 
ence  for  safety  was  placed  upon  the  two  trusted 
watchmen  whose  deposition  has  been  given. 

The  children  and  their  attendants,  who  slept  in 
adjacent  rooms,  heard  no  noise  during  the  night, 
In  short,  none  but  the  two  under  strict  arrest  were 
aware  of  the  entrance  of  any  person  or  persons  after 
twelve  o'clock.  In  the  meanwhile,  detectives  were 
stationed  unostentatiously  throughout  the  White 


12        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

House,  watching  with  professional  acuteness  the 
movements  of  everyone  within  its  doors. 

At  eleven  o'clock  precisely  on  the  morning  of  the 
ninth  of  June,  Inspector  Byrnes  and  the  chief  of  the 
Washington  police  drove  up  in  a  hack  to  the  door 
of  the  Secretary's  mansion,  and  requested  a  private 
interview.  Within  was  feverish  commotion.  Sena 
tors  and  Representatives,  public  officials  and  men  of 
eminence  were  sending  in  their  cards  and  excitedly 
discussing  the  dreadful  news.  Telegrams  were 
beginning  to  pour  in.  The  first  impression  was 
confirmed  that  a  political  coup  or  revenge  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  shocking  affair,  and  whispers 
were  mysteriously  exchanged  between  sombre  and 
stately  heads. 

When  the  Secretary  saw  the  cards  he  immedi 
ately  withdrew,  with  an  aside  to  the  Secretary  of 
War :  "  This  visit  may  clear  up  some  of  the  mys 
tery."  These  words  were  not  calculated  to  soothe 
the  impatience  of  the  inner  circle. 

When  the  three  were  alone  in  the  private  office, 
the  chief  of  the  Washington  police  force  tersely 
opened  the  subject.  He  was  a  blunt  official  of  ada 
mantine  integrity,  a  veteran  of  the  war. 

"  Mr.  Secretary,"  he  began,  "  this  is  the  saddest 
day  the  country  has  known  for  many  a  year.  You 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        13 

must  pardon  me  if  I  ask  you  a  few  leading  ques 
tions." 

Inspector  Byrnes  sat  with  his  back  to  the  light ; 
for,  with  an  inimitable  fashion  of  his  own,  he  had, 
upon  entering,  made  a  debouch  between  two  chairs 
and  a  table,  forcing  the  Secretary  to  sit  with  his 
face  to  the  glare  of  the  window.  Shaded  himself 
he  could  with  impunity  watch  the  least  expression 
on  the  sensitive  and  noble  countenance  before  him. 

"  Sir,  do  you  recognize  this  card  ?  "  The  question 
came  like  a  musket  shot,  and  a  card  dropped,  face 
upwards,  on  the  Secretary's  knee.  Kellar  could 
not  have  performed  tliis  feat  more  neatly. 

The  Secretary  glanced  at  the  pasteboard  for  a 
moment,  and  said  in  evident  surprise  : 

"  Why,  yes.     It  is  one  of  my  cards." 

"  Have  you  any  more  with  you  ?  "  asked  Inspec 
tor  Byrnes,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 

The  Secretary  seemed  puzzled,  but  good-naturedly 
opened  his  wallet,  and  produced  several  of  the 
same  description.  These  he  handed  to  the  Inspec 
tor,  who  took  them  and  bowed  profoundly.  A 
moment  was  spent  in  intense  examination. 

"  You  must  pardon  me  if  I  ask  you  if  you  use 
these  cards  when  calling  upon  the  President  ?  "  pro 
ceeded  the  Washington  officer.  The  Inspector's 


14        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

eyes  seemed  to  be  still  riveted  upon  the  cards  in  his 
hands. 

"  Why,  yes — no — that  is,  once  in  a  while,  if  I 
happen  to  desire  an  audience  at  an  unusual  hour," 
answered  the  Secretary,  exhibiting  the  first  signs  of 
embarrassment. 

"  Will  you  please  tell  us  when  you  called  there 
last?"  asked  Inspector  Byrnes,  furtively  glancing 
up  and  speaking  in  a  chatty,  assuring  tone. 

The  Secretary's  face  expressed  relief. 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered  ;  "that  is  easy  enough. 
I  attended  an  informal  reception  in  the  Blue  Room 
from  three  to  four  yesterday  and  saw  the  President 
alone  a  minute  afterward.  That  is  the  last  time  I 
saw  him."  One  might  almost  have  fancied  at  the 
last  sentence  that  tears  arose  to  the  eyes  of  the  cab 
inet  officer ;  at  least  there  were  tears  in  his  voice. 

"  Just  as  a  matter  of  formality,  Mr.  Secretary,  will 
you  tell  us  where  you  were  between  twelve  and  two 
o'clock  this  morning?  "  asked  the  Inspector,  with  the 
unconscious  look  of  a  man  who  was  asking  for  a 
glass  of  water. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  sir  ?  Do  you  suspect  me 
in  this  infernal  mystery  ?  "  ejaculated  the  Secretary. 
His  face  was  pale  from  excitement ;  his  eyes  flashed 
in  manly  protest. 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        15 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  sir.  Calm  yourself.  This 
is  only  a  matter  of  curious  coincidence  and  a  dis 
agreeable  formality,"  answered  the  Inspector,  wav 
ing  his  hand  as  if  he  were  brushing  away  a  fly. 

The  Secretary  stood  a  moment  in  thought,  and 
then  turned  and  touched  a  button.  Immediately  a 
servant  appeared  to  whom  the  Secretary  whispered 
a  few  words.  The  man  in  livery  bowed  and  went. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Secretary,  standing 
with  much  dignity  before  his  callers,  "  wait  a 
moment,  and  so  far  as  I  am  concerned  this  mystery 
shall  be  cleared.  I  happened  to  be  in  this  room  last 
night  from  twelve  until  half-past  two  with  some 
gentlemen,  whom  I  am  sure  you  will  recognize.  Ah  ! 
here  they  are." 

A  tap  at  the  door  and  a  "  Come  in  "  revealed  to 
the  astonished  detectives  the  Secretaries  of  War  and 
of  the  Interior,  who  entered  the  room. 

"Now,  Inspector,"  continued  the  Secretary  of  State 
in  his  grandest  manner,  "  will  you  kindly  ask  your 
question  again?" 

It  then  transpired  that  the  three  Secretaries  had 
conducted  an  informal  meeting  to  confer  about  the 
distressing  question  of  war  with  Canada  which  was 
at  that  time  agitating  the  country,  and  that  their  in 
terview  had  been  prolonged  into  the  small  hours  of 


16       A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

the  morning.  The  chief  of  the  Washington  police 
could  not  refrain  from  profuse  apologies  after  this 
denouement.  Inspector  Brynes  thought  profoundly, 
and  then,  after  a  pause,  burst  out  with  unparalleled 
frankness : 

"  Gentlemen,  this  is  the  most  startling  mystery 
in  the  annals  of  American  crime.  I  must  confess 
that  up  to  this  moment  I  am  absolutely  foiled." 
He  then  recounted,  under  seal  of  secrecy,  the  whole 
story  as  we  have  seen  it.  Ending  his  exciting  nar 
rative,  he  said : 

"  And,  Mr.  Secretary,  do  you  know  of  any  one  in 
Washington  or  in  the  country  that  resembles  you 
enough  to  deceive  two  men,  taking  into  account  a 
natural  drowsiness  that  each  admitted  ?  " 

The  three  gentlemen  of  the  Cabinet  thought  hard 
but  were  soon  bound  to  answer  in  the  negative. 
For  the  Secretary  of  State  was  no  ordinary-looking 
man.  Conspicuous  on  any  occasion,  though  not  what 
might  be  strictly  called  handsome,  he  always  com 
manded  attention  by  his  distinguished  air.  His 
luxuriant  side  whiskers,  which  were  really  magnifi 
cent  were  the  most  noticeable  feature  of  his  face. 
I  Ee  had  the  happy  consciousness  that  there  were  none 
like  them  in  the  United  States. 

"  There  is  only  one  more  question  you  can  answer, 


A  EE PUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        17 

Mr.  Secretary,"  said  Inspector  Byrnes,  with  a  defer 
ential  look.  "  The  watchman  on  the  first  floor  said 
he  recognized  your  team.  Will  you  please  find 
out  whether  your  coupe  was  in  or  not  between 
twelve  and  two  ?  Coachmen  have  queer  tricks  at 
times." 

The  coachman  was  immediately  sent  for.  Mean 
while  the  Secretary  stated  that  he  had  come  in  at 
twelve  from  a  late  call  on  a  personal  friend. 

"  May  I  ask  your  friend's  name  ? "  interrupted 
the  national  sleuth-hound,  swiftly  and  politely. 

"  The  Patagonian  Ambassador,"  replied  the  Sec 
retary  with  hauteur.  He  added  that  he  had  sent 
his  carriage  instructing  John,  the  family  coachman, 
to  be  on  hand  at  eleven  that  morning.  The  carriage 
was  evidently  not  there,  and  in  the  excitement  of 
the  news  the  Secretary  had  foregone  his  morning's 
Department  business. 

After  half  an  hour  of  waiting,  during  which  the 
two  police  officers  had  sent  out  several  messages, 
the  coachman  was  ushered  in  among  the  impatient 
quintet.  Instead  of  the  prim  and  stately  master 
of  the  horse,  who  was  the  despair  of  even  his  co-peer 
the  Jehu  of  the  English  Ambassador,  and  the  ad 
miration  of  the  Washington  gamin,  there  skulked 

in  a  battered,  bandaged,  hastily  -dressed  man,  who 

2 


18        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

shuffled  out  incoherent  excuses,  and  burst  into  moist 
apologies. 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault.  The  divil  was  in  it.  The 
hosses  are  safe.  The  ker ridge  is  well.  I  woke  up 
in  the  gutter,  the  blood  sputterin'  down  me  back 
bone.  They  were  picked  up  this  morning.  Don't 
discharge  me !  I've  served  you  fifteen  years  and 
only  trained  twicst.  AVhat'll  become  of  me  ?  Lord 
have  mercy ! "  The  coachman  of  the  Secretary 
had  a  stock  of  irreproachable  syntax,  which  had 
been  utterly  scattered  during  the  experience  of  the 
last  night.  At  this  spontaneous  moment  his  native 
grammar  got  the  best  of  him. 

The  coachman's  testimony  amounted  to  this  : 
The  driver  was  walking  his  horses  to  the  stable  in 
the  fog  when  he  saw  a  man  beckon  him  from  the 
sidewalk.  Not  a  soul  was  on  the  street.  Beyond 
was  a  dark,  private  lane.  He  stopped,  and,  to  his 
surprise,  saw,  as  he  thought,  his  master  standing 
and  motioning  him  to  come  to  a  halt  and  get  down. 
The  Secretary's  face  was  turned  toward  the  dark. 
The  voice  sounded  muffled.  When  the  coachman 
alighted  his  master  produced  a  silver  flask  and  told 
him  to  take  a  drink  as  it  was  so  damp.  He  dared 
not  disobey,  though  full  ot  wonder  at  this  unprece 
dented  favor.  As  soon  as  he  had  taken  a  pull  he  felt 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        19 

dizzy.  Two  or  three  more  "black  figures  appeared 
like  ghosts  before  his  eyes.  He  thought  he  struck 
out  or  tried  to  run  to  the  coach,  he  didn't  know 
which.  A  queer  odor  mounted  to  his  head.  Then 
he  lost  consciousness.  He  came  to,  early  in  the 
morning,  a  little  after  four,  and  staggered  to  the 
stable.  The  team  was  not  there.  He  fell  into  a 
stupor  of  despair.  About  an  hour  after,  an  acquaint 
ance  of  his  drove  the  span  up,  and  said  they  had 
been  found  unchecked,  grazing  near  the  Smith 
sonian  Institute.  He  supposed  that  they  had  run 
away.  The  Secretary's '  coachman  had  then  given 
the  fellow  five  dollars  for  his  services  and  to  hold 
his  tongue.  He  was  afraid  of  being  discharged. 
He  had  just  heard  of  the  disappearance  of  the  Pres 
ident  and  he  feared  being  implicated  in  the  affair. 
After  the  name  of  the  person  who  found  the  horses 
was  taken  down,  and  after  a  searching  cross-exami 
nation,  the  frightened  man  was  sent  away  to  rest, 
with  assurance  of  continued  favor.  Subsequent  ex 
aminations  failed  to  find  any  traces  of  the  catas 
trophe  in  the  coupe.  It  had  been  carefully  cleaned 
when  it  came  back  to  the  stable.  There  was  no 
blood  visible. 

This  completes  the  whole  of  the  testimony  and 
information  that  was  received  or  discovered  by  the 


20        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

united  efforts  of  all  the  detectives  in  America  up 
to  the  fourteenth  of  the  month.  Clews  had  been 
manufactured  and  followed  with  desperate  rapidity, 
but  to  no  avail.  Numberless  arrests  had  been 
made,  but  no  one  could  be  legally  held  for  high 
treason  against  the  Chief  Executive.  All  that  was 
known  was  this  :  that  some  bold  villain  had  success 
fully  personated  the  Secretary  of  State  ;  that  he  had 
gulled  three  servants  by  a  close  resemblance ;  that 
he,  with  others,  probably,  had  forcibly  carried  the 
President  and  his  wife  from  their  very  beds,  leaving 
them  but  scant  time  to  take  the  necessary  articles 
of  clothing;  that  these  abductors  had  audaciously 
used  the  State  carriage  for  their  nefarious  purpose  ; 
that  they  had  left  absolutely  no  trace  behind ;  and, 
that  moreover,  in  the  darkness  of  the  fog  and  rain  no 
further  track  could  be  found  of  the  direction  they 
took.  They  could  not  have  gone  by  train ;  so  every 
house  in  the  city  of  Washington  and  in  the  suburbs, 
to  the  distance  of  fifteen  miles  or  more,  had  been 
searched  in  vain.  A  like  systematic  investigation  was 
carried  on  along  the  river,  to  the  bay,  in  search  of 
anything  suspicious  afloat.  The  authorities  gave  the 
robbers  of  the  nation  no  time  or  opportunity  to 
escape  by  land  or  water.  All  avenues  were  watched. 
Where  were  they  and  their  noble  booty  ?  In  short 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PliESlbEXT.       21 

the  foremost  couple  of  the  United  States  had  ut 
terly  disappeared,  to  the  horror  and  despair  of  the 
civilized  world. 

It  was  just  one  week  from  the  morning  of  the 
shock  when  the  New  York  Herald  published  the  fol 
lowing  manifesto  in  its  original  form.  It  was  sent 
as  an  advertisement  with  five  dollars  enclosed.  The 
envelope  was  postmarked  from  division  II  of  ths 
New  York  Post-office.  The  document  bore  no  super 
scription.  It  read  as  follows  : 

TO  THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  I 

We  have  abducted  your  President  and  his  wife,  and  hold  them 
for  ransom.  They  will  not  be  delivered  up  until  their  fine  be  paid 
publicly,  under  fall  sanction  of  Congress*.  Moreover,  Congress 
and  the  people  must  guarantee,  in  addition  to  the  full  payment, 
C.  0.  D.,  entire  liberty  to  the  abductors  permanently  to  wiUidraw 
from  this  country  and  live  in  future  peace.  Unless  Congress 
and  the  nation  give  their  honor  for  the  payment  of  the  ransom 
and  our  personal  and  impregnable  liberty,  ice  will  not  deliver  our 
prisoners.  We  impose  a  ransom  of  a  million  dollars  apiece 
for  each  week,  for  such  time  as  this  offer  may  remain  unaccepted. 
The  time  begins  from  date  of  capture.  These  conditions  are 
final.  When  the  country,  through  its  representatives,  accedes  to 
this  demand,  the  time  and  place  of  delivery  will  be  published  in 
these  columns.  The  loyalty  and  honor  of  the  nation  are  now  on 
exhibition  before  the  world. 

This  communication  burst  like  dynamite  upon 
the  people.  Did  it  not  bear  an  undeniable  stamp  of 


22        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

genuineness  upon  its  face,  not  only  through  the 
firmness  of  its  tone,  but  by  the  audacity  of  the  de 
mand  ?  Yet  there  was  an  equal  division  of  opinion. 
Some  thought  it  was  the  raving  of  a  crank  in  search 
of  notoriety,  but  others  looked  upon  it  as  a  veritable 
communication  from  those  who  held  the  President 
and  his  wife  in  their  possession. 

Two  millions  of  dollars  a  week !  A  princely  ran 
som  worthy  of  a  royal  couple  and  of  the  United 
States. 

It  was  natural  that  the  handwriting  of  this  letter 
should  be  scrutinized  severely.  Every  ingenuity  that 
detective  art  could  devise  for  finding  the  sender 
was  employed.  During  the  next  few  days  New 
York  underwent  an  espionage  worthy  of  the  court 
of  St  Petersburg.  But,  to  the  utter  mortification 
of  Inspector  Byrnes  and  his  myriads,  of  Pinkerton 
and  his  myrmidons,  they  were  bound  to  confess 
their  utter  failure.  The  perpetrators  of  the  incred 
ible  deed,  like 

"  An  firm 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful," 

brandished  the  sword  in  the  air  and  disappeared. 

In  the  meantime  the  political  nation  was  aroused. 
It  experienced  some  measure  of  relief  to  know,  if  it 
were  true,  that  its  chief  was  held  for  paltry  gold. 


A  REPUBLIC   WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.       23 

Iii  that  case,  he  and  his  would  be  safe  from  the 
assassin's  sword  or  the  vengeance  of  an  alien  party 
whose  hatred  he  had  incurred  by  patriotic  scorn  in 
his  inaugural  address.  An  yet,  the  question  was 
raised  whether  some  treasonable  secret  society  had 
not  secluded  him,  hoping  to  increase  its  revenue  at 
the  expense  of  the  United  States  treasury.  Many 
went  so  far  as  to  pronounce  it  a  Fenian  plot  to  raise 
money  for  Parnell  in  his  final  overthrow  of  English 
rule  in  Ireland.  Constituents  wrote  to  their  repre 
sentatives  in  Washington,  instructing  them  to  vote 
the  ransom,  without  delay,  from  the  surplus  fund, 
which  was  now  one  hundred  and  seventy-eight 
million  dollars.  Others  instructed  them  not  to 
waste  the  public  money,  as  the  President  and  his 
spouse  must  soon  be  found  by  competent  detectives, 
and  thus  a  "  creditable  saving  to  the  treasury " 
would  be  made.  The  Vice-President,  who  had  suc 
ceeded  to  full  powers,  sent  a  special  message  to 
Congress,  requesting  it  to  vote  the  ransom,  no 
matter  how  enormous.  The  strain  on  him  was  not 
worth  the  people's  money.  So  Congress  met  in 
secret  session,  and  spent  the  balance  of  the  week 
fighting,  temporizing,  and  receiving  telegrams  to 
the  effect  that  new  clews  were  found. 

On  the  twenty- second  of  June,  exactly  two  weeks 


24       A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT 

from  the  time  of  the  distinguished  capture,  the  fol 
lowing  epigrammatic  communication  was  printed 
by  the  New  York  Herald,  in  the  same  handwriting 
as  the  previous  one.  The  envelope  bore  a  Chicago 
postmark  .< 

"  Congress  has  disregarded  our  generous  offer  :  The  ransom 
for  the  President  of  the  United  States  and  Jor  his  wife  is  there 
fore  raised  two  million  dollars." 

This  was  all ;  cold  and  ominous.  Like  the  first 
message  it  was  unsigned.  The  style  was  unrelent 
ing  and  imperious.  Citizens  awoke  to  the  sensation 
that  they  w~ho  were  now  the  nation's  martyrs  were 
in  the  hands  of  men  who  would  not  shrink  from 
enforcing  their  demand.  It  was  now  universally 
believed  that  these  were  bond  fide  bulletins  sent  by 
the  unscrupulous  abductors  themselves.  This  be 
came  the  detectives'  final  theory,  and  they  massed 
their  skill  towards  it. 

The  unsolved  mystery  brooded  like  dog-days 
over  man,  woman,  and  child.  A  nameless  fear,  that 
of  an  unknown  and  irresistible  enemy  in  their 
midst,  paralyzed  the  citizens.  Prayers  were  offered 
in  every  church,  school-house,  and  home.  The 
hostilities  that  but  lately  threatened  the  country 
ceased.  Civilization  breathed  •nothin g  but  sympathy 
for  the  bereaved  republic.  Sovereigns  redoubled 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        25 

their  private  guards  and  quaked  upon  their  thrones. 
And  yet,  in  the  face  of  fears,  petitions,  and  threats, 
Congress,  in  a  spirit  of  disastrous  conservatism 
that  has  marked  so  many  of  its  deliberations,  al 
lowed  itself  to  be  ruled  by  a  dissenting  minority. 
Detective  Byrnes,  hoping  to  gain  imperishable  credit 
and  also  the  reward  of  five  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  which  Congress  had  been  liberal  enough  to 
offer,  counselled  delay  in  a  private  letter  to  the 
Speaker  of  the  House.  So  it  happened  that  this 
august  body  would  not  ratify  the  overwhelming 
vote  for  immediate  payment  of  ransom  which  had 
just  been  passed  by  the  Senate. 

This  filibustering  brought  the  country  into  the 
third  week  of  the  calamity.  The  following  commu 
nication  to  the  New  York  Herald,  postmarked 
Boston,  written  in  the  same  hand  as  before,  brought 
matters  to  a  crisis : 

"  The  nation  has  evidently  more  love  for  their  surplus  than  for 
their  President.  The  requisite  ransom  has  reached  six  millions  of 
dollars  in  gold.  The  treasury  is  not  yet  exhausted,  nor  are  ire. 
None  can  find  us.  Our  defences  are  unapproachable.  We  laugh 
at  your  attempts.  The  wife  of  your  President,  we  are  grieved  to 
say,  is  ill.'" 

This  proclamation  aroused  a  new  element,  which 
had  been  smouldering,  to  white  heat.  The  women 
of  the  country  rose  en  masse.  They  fired  old  socie- 


26        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

ties  and  organized  new  to  collect  ransom.  The  W. 
C.  T.  U.  arid  W.  H.  M.  A.  and  A.  S.  A.  and  A.  B.  C. 
and  X.  Q.  B.  Z.  thrilled  to  the  occasion.  Infant 
Bands  of  Hope  and  Daughters  of  Endeavor  invaded 
private  families  with  demands  for  penny  subscrip 
tions.  Weeping  women  persuaded  dollars  by  the 
tens,  hundreds  and  thousands  from  responsive  men. 
They  renounced  their  bon-bons  and  new  dresses, 
parties  and  dowries  in  their  patriotic  fervor.  The 
presidents  of  all  the  women's  societies  in  the  land 
trooped  to  Washington.  They  cried  shame  at  those 
who  trifled  for  the  sake  of  the  fiftieth  part  of  the 
gold  in  the  vaults  with  the  noblest  life  in  the  Union. 
These  unselfish  women  stormed  the  capital,  and 
literally  poured  two  millions  of  dollars,  which  they 
had  collected  in  less  than  three  days,  upon  the  floor 
of  the  House  to  rescue  the  first  lady  of  the  land 
from  who  knew  what  ?  They  forced  their  husbands, 
their  representatives,  to  do  their  bidding,  and  the 
final  vote  was  passed  amid  indescribable  scenes. 

The  ransom  was  now  ready  for  the  President  and 
their  lady.  It  had  to  be  accompanied  by  the  national 
promise  to  secure  freedom  to  those  who  delivered 
up  the  suffering  couple.  That  was  the  third  of  July. 
Still  the  impotence  of  the  nation  in  this  new  crisis 
filled  thoughtful  men  with  apprehension.  Was  it 


A  BEPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        27 

moral  that  cash  instead  of  justice  should  be  given  to 
these  stupendous  criminals  ?  What  a  precedent  for 
infamous  success  !  Of  what  avail  courts  of  law  and 
prisons  if  such  consummate  daring  goes  unpunished  ? 
Is  there  a  portion  of  our  national  machinery  out  of 
gear  ?  If  so,  which  ?  Nevertheless  the  excitement 
was  now  beyond  fever  heat.  It  is  safe  to  say  that 
the  temperature  of  the  people  had  risen  ten  degrees 
when  the  news  was  flashed  abroad  that  the  "  Presi 
dent's  money,"  as  it  was  called,  had  been  unanimously 
voted  by  Congress.  Tears  streamed  as  patriots  met 
each  other.  Many  developed  a  new  species  of  in 
sanity  in  their  suspense. 

The  country  had  now  done  its  part  toward  the 
rescue  of  its  chief  magistrate  and  of  his  perishing 
consort.  Would  the  abductors  be  true  to  their  por 
tion  of  the  contract  ?  Party  strife  had  been  forgotten 
in  this  new  anguish.  All  Fourth  of  July  demonstra 
tions  had  been  postponed  until  a  loving  people's 
thanksgiving  for  their  President's  safety  could  blend 
with  the  time  honored  celebration  of  a  nation's 
birth. 

But  suspense  was  not  long  delayed.  Promptly 
the  New  York  Herald  received  a  manifesto,  this 
time  the  last,  sent  by  the  arch-conspirators  to  Con 
gress  and  the  people.  This  envelope  was  boldly 


28        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

postmarked  Washington.  This  fact  made  those  in 
the  capital  city  almost  afraid  to  stir  from  their 
homes  lest  unawares  they  might  meet  the  demon  in 
their  midst  who  had  dwarfed  all  principals  in  the 
records  of  crime  up  to  the  present  date.  But  this 
final  proclamation  read  as  follows : 

TO  CONGRESS  AND  ALL  AMERICANS. 

We  note  your  late  and  liberal  response  to  our  proposal.  We 
shall  not  be  outdone  in  the  honorable  discharge  of  obligations. 
At  precisely  eight  (8)  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  July  sixth  (6th)  the 
payment  of  ransom  and  delivery  of  captives  will  take  place  within 
one  mile  of  Washington's  homestead,  Mt.  Vernon.  The  govern 
ment  vessel  with  ransom  and  proper  officials  on  board  will  remain 
in  near  sight  of  Mt.  Vernon.  At  our  signal  (which  shall  consist 
of  four  Japanese  day  rockets,  each  representing  a  flaming  sword) 
whether  hurled  from  land  or  water,  the  officers  of  the  government 
will  steam  toward  the  place  of  deliver y.  Guards  will  fall  back 
immediately  upon  the  discharge  of  whistling  bombs  until  the 
ransom  and  the  ransomed  meet.  The  Presidential  party  will 
bear  a  flag,  vertically  s'riped  black  and  crimson.  On  its  centre 
will  be  a  gold  half-eagle.  Payment  must  be  made  as  follows : 
There  must  be  eight u  (80)  leathern  bags,  each  containing  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars  (^100,000)  in  gold ;  the  amount  of  ran 
som  being  eight  million  dollars  (-.^8,000,000)/or/owr  weeks'  board 
at  one  million  dollars  (£1,000,000)  a  week  apiece.  This  money 
must  be  paid  and  it*  genuineness  certificated  upon  the  honor  of  the 
United  States  by  the  Secretaries  of  State  and  of  the  Treasury. 
If  there  is  any  suspicion  of  infidelity  on  the  part  of  the  nation, 
the  President  and  his  wife  will  be  held  for  another  month  on  the 
same  terms.  Should  we  be  betrayed  in  the  trust  which  we  have 
reposed  in  the  American  people,  on  the  6th  of  July,  at,  or  previous 
to  the  time  of  delivery,  the  distinguished  hostages  will  immediately 
be  put  permanently  beyond  reach  of  hope. 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        29 

Unscrupulous  and  stern  was  the  message,  yet 
tinged  with  a  spurious  color  of  honor  that  demanded 
the  true  blue  in  return.  It  was  the  consensus  of 
opinion  that  it  would  be  madness  to  attempt  arrest 
during  the  culminative  ceremonies.  The  required 
gold  was  transferred  from  the  treasury  vaults  to  the 
new  and  swift  cruiser  Washington. 

Final  arrangements  were '  made  for  giving  the  im 
prisoned  couple  the  most  glorious  reception  which 
ingenuity  and  patriotism  could  devise.  Reporters 
by  hundreds  bivouacked  on  the  grounds  of  Mt.  Yer- 
non  on  the  night  of  the  fifth.  .  Gunboats,  steamers, 
yachts  and  sail  of  every  description  congregated  to 
the  scene  of  the  surrender.  The  land  teemed  with 
sightseers  and  soldiers  with  stacked  arms.  In  the 
midst  of  all  this  apparent  disorder,  Inspector 
Byrnes,  on  his  own  responsibility,  had  his  thousand 
trained  men,  who  patrolled  every  foot  of  ground 
within  five  miles  of  the  historic  site,  and  who  had 
surveyed  every  inch  of  water  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Potomac  to  the  city  of  Washington.  He  had  hoped 
to  retrieve  his  fame  by  a  successful  capture  at  the 
eleventh  hour. 

At  last,  though  it  seemed  a  century  in  coming, 
the  morning  of  the  sixth  of  July  broke  solemnly 
upon  Mt.  Vernon,  The  revered  site  was  flanked  on 


30        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

all  sides  by  seething,  excited,  hopeful  humanity 
such  as  these  historic  shores  had  never  before  wit 
nessed.  The  official  command  had  been  to  abstain 
from  all  noise  and  confusion  on  land  or  water  from 
the  time  of  the  sunrise  gun. 

The  cannon  boomed  from  the  new  navy.  Then 
came  the  hush.  The  last  hours  of  waiting  were 
spent  in  maddening  inactivity,  in  strained  repose. 
From  what  quarter  would  the  ominous  signal  be 
seen?  Who  would  catch  the  first  glimpse  of % the 
boldest  and  most  successful  gang  of  malefactors  that 
this  country  had  ever  produced  ? 


A  KEPUVLW  WITHOUT  A  PUESWENT.        31 


PART  II. 

COLONEL  ODDMTNTOX  was  a  widower,  with  only 
one  son,  fifteen  years  old.  It  was  natural,  then,  that 
the  colonel  himself  should  balance  between  forty- 
five  and  fifty  years  of  age.  Let  the  fact  only  be 
whispered  in  desert  places  that  the  colonel  was  no 
more  a  colonel  than  you  are.  He  had  never  smelt 
powder,  except  when  shooting  mallard  ducks.  Pie 
never  had  seen  a  regiment,  except  when  it  was 
marching  on  Decoration  Day  peacefully  through  the 
woebegone  streets  of  Charleston,  preparatory  to  a 
good  dinner.  His  nearest  idea  of  regalia  and  medals 
consisted  of  the  many  adornments  worn  by  Queer 
Fellows  or  any  other  order  of  Honorable  Unextin- 
guished  Redskins  as  they  either  laid  a  corner-stone 
or  a  comrade  ceremoniously  in  the  ground.  Where 
could  he  have  lived  and  not  have  been  an  active  par 
tisan  in  the  stirring  days  of  our  devastating  civil 
war  ?  Surely,  not  in  the  United  States  ! 

Of  English  exile  blood  that  came  over  a  hundred 


32        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

years  ago,  he  would  have  been  a  thorough  American 
had  his  parents  and  his  environment  permitted.  His 
family  had  settled  on  one  of  the  many  Sea  Islands 
that  dot  the  coast  of  South  Carolina,  and  there  they 
had  staid  and  raised  the  famous  Sea  Island  cotton 
which  is  still  successfully  used,  so  fine  its  fibre,  to 
adulterate  a  fashionable  fabric.  Like  the  baryte  of 
Cheshire,  the  cotton  of  Oddminton  Island  became 
valuable  as  it  became  an  ally  to  fraud.  The  one  in 
creased  the  weight  of  white  lead;  the  other  swelled 
the  unlawful  receipts  of  the  manufacturers  of  silk. 
Oddminton  Island  did  not  follow  the  regular  markets 
of  trade.  It  always  had  its  peculiar  channels  of  com 
merce  ;  its  cotton  had  an  undiscoverable  destination. 

The  colonel,  as  we  will  still  call  him,  was,  from 
his  earliest  memory,  sternly  brought  up.  under  an 
atmosphere  of  uncanniness  and  secrecy,  nor  did  he 
leave  his  fertile  island,  except,  as  we  shall  mention, 
until  his  father  died  and  made  him  sole  proprietor 
of  land,  slaves  and  family  traditions.  Fully  two 
hundred  acres  were  under  cotton  cultivation.  The 
insignificant  remainder  was  unen tangled  marsh. 

Colonel  Oddminton's  father  died  in  eighteen  hun 
dred  and  sixty-one.  Then  the  colonel  began  to 
expand.  He  had  two  hobbies  that  consumed  his 
imagination  by  day  and  agitated  his  visions  by  night. 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        33 

The  one  had  been  shared  by  his  deceased  parent, 
namely,  an  inordinate  desire  to  be  rich  ;  not  as 
wealthy  as  the  richest  family  in  Charleston,  but  as 
rich  as  all  the  merchants  in  the  "  City  by  the  Sea" 
put  together.  Cotton  had  always  given  a  comfort 
able  living,  but  cotton  was  declining.  It  became 
unsatisfactory.  It  was  not  enough. 

Colonel  Oddminton's  other  hobby  was  a  fast  boat. 
He  had  always  been  a  more  than  enthusiastic  sailor. 
When  the  boy  was  only  eighteen,  his  father  had 
given  him  a  ten-ton  sloop  and  allowed  him  to  go 
anywhere,  provided  he  did  not  touch  the  main-land. 
This  order  was  in  accordance  with  the  old  man's 
peculiarities,  but  was  strictly  obeyed.  \Vitli  his 
black  sailors  the  boy  had  cruised  in  every  bay  and 
inlet  for  a  hundred  miles  about.  Though  no  one 
else  knew  it,  he  was  the  best  pilot  those  waters  ever 
saw.  During  the  war,  when  he  was  master,  he 
never  left  his  island  except  to  put  his  own  cotton 
aboard  English  blockade  runners.  In  these  hazard 
ous  attempts  he  never  failed.  This  experience 
cultivated  his  native  qualities  of  courage  and  of 
self-possession. 

On  this  island  of  his  there  was  a  bay  that  afforded 
fine  anchorage  for  two  large  boats.  It  abutted  on 
the  marsh.  It  was  there  he  had  built  a  small  camp- 


34        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

house.  Neither  the  cove  nor  the  house  could  be 
seen  from  the  open  sea.  The  former  could  only  be 
entered  through  an  intricate  channel,  and  that  when 
the  wind  and  tide  were  favorable.  The  latter  was 
approached  through  heavy  underbrush  by  a  winding 
passage  that  was  known  only  to  a  few. 

Colonel  Oddminton  was  a  tall,  fine-looking  man. 
He  wore  a  long  flowing  beard  that  had  never  seen 
the  razor.  His  build  was  massive  ;  his  height  was 
manly. 

About  the  time  of  which  we  are  writing — this  was 
in — but  the  reader  remembers — his  new  schooner, 
which  he  had  dignified  by  the  name  of  yacht,  much 
to  the  amusement  of  a  few  acquaintances,  had  been 
easily  beaten  by  a  trim  stranger,  that  ploughed  its 
way  to  windward  as  if  it  had  been  a  knife  eating 
into  the  teeth  of  the  gale.  He  had  followed  this  new 
craft  to  harbor  and  found  her  to  be  a  Herreshofi0 
model.  That  night,  for  the  colonel's  schooner  was 
really  an  able  and  fast  one,  the  disappointed  man 
was  sadder  than  when  he  saw  his  only  friend,  his 
father,  die.  He  was  proud  of  his  schooner.  He  had 
cruised  in  her  from  Baltimore  to  the  St.  John's 
river,  and  had  never  been  so  disgracefully  out-pointed 
and  outfooted  by  any  boat  of  her  size  before. 

it  was  at  this  time  that  he  fell  into  a  revery  that 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        35 

lasted  a  month.  It  was  the  longest  month  in  his 
life,  the  only  one  he  had  ever  spent  npon  the  main 
land.  People  pronounced  him  "daft,"  decidedly 
cracked,  but  "  harmless,  you  know."  His  tall  figure 
flitted  from  the  lobby  of  the  Charleston  Hotel  to  the 
great  cotton  wharves,  and  then  back  again.  At  last 
he  awoke,  and  this  was  the  outcome  of  his  supposed 
aberration. 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  costs  me  my  last  cent,  I'll  have 
the  fastest  boat  in  the  world,  and  no  one  shall  beat 
me  again,  by  gum  !  " 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  he  sold  to  an  eager 
syndicate  of  English  capitalists  his  island  for  an  as 
paragus  farm,  reserving  for  himself  the  odd  acres  of 
marsh,  his  camp  house  and  bay  with  its  two  moor 
ings.  On  this  sale  he  realized  a  hundred  thousand 
cash  down.  He  then  turned  his  father's  savings, 
fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  London  consols,  into 
ready  money.  He  now  had  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  With  this  he  and  his  boat  dis 
appeared.  No  note  was  taken  of  his  absence  either 
on  his  former  property  or  in  Charleston,  the  only 
other  place  that  really  knew  him,  so  frequent  were 
his  vagaries,  so  infrequent  his  presence. 

Let  us  follow  the  Colonel  in  his  unostentatious 
wanderings.  He  first  sailed  with  his  son  and  his 


86        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

two  trusty  men  direct  to  Washington  city,  lie  took 
in  the  sights  of  the  Capital  for  a  few  weeks,  and. 
then,  leaving  his  boat  behind,  pushed  on  by  train  to 
New  York,  that  wonderful  metropolis  that  obliter 
ates  or  worships  men  with  an  idea.  lie  took  lodg 
ings  with  his  son  in  a  modest  boarding-house,  and 
there  met  a  Swedish  sailor,  a  man  who  had  been 
captain  of  a  steam  yacht  during  the  summer,  and 
now  happened  to  be  out  of  employment.  Nautical 
people  do  not  take  a  long  time  to  become  acquainted. 
Colonel  Oddminton  at  the  end  of  a  week  had  engaged 
Hans  Christian  on  the  strength  of  his  name,  without 
further  references,  at  a  salary  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  with  the  proviso  that 
his  new  captain  should  hold  his  tongue  and  obey 
orders.  This  was  about  the  first  of  November. 
During  the  last  week  of  the  same  month  the  yacht 
ing  world,  and  indeed  the  whole  maritime  contin 
gency,  were  interested  in  the  following  paragraph, 
which  was  duly  copied  and  commented  upon  by  the 
national  and  foreign  press  : 

"  The  famous  builders,  the  Herreshoffs,  have  taken  a  contract 
to  build  a  steel  yacht  that  shall  develop  the  enormous  speed  of  35 
knots  an  hour.  They  are  given  '  carte  blanche  'for  everything  that 
p»rt.  tins  to  increase  of  speed.  The  new  phenomenon  will  be  about 
a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  as  less  water  line  will  not  admit  of 
the  speed  contracted  for.  A  bonus  of  $500,  it  is  rumored,  will  be 


A  EEPUBLTC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        87 

paid  for  each  additional  one  half-knot  speed  over  the  contract 
requirements  of  35  knots.  The  engines  that  will  effect  this  xpeed 
will  be  of  a  new  and  untried  pattern.  Tliey  will  not  be  exhibited 
unless  the  vessel  prove  a  success.  The  owner  of  this  phenomenal 
craft,  which  will  be  the  fastest  in  the  world,  is  unknown.  It  is 
suspected  that  it  will  go  to  the  Swedish  government  for  use  as  a 
torpedo  bo  it.  Tlie  yacht  will  be  finished  in  five  months,  and  her 
nam?  is  undecided.  We  should  respectfully  suggest  « Sheet 
Lightning.'  " 

At  this  time  Colonel  Oddminton  and  his  son  began 
to  travel  restlessly.  They  kept  it  up  all  winter  un 
til  the  first  of  May.  The  lad  had  developed  as  much 
aptness  for  the  land  as  he  had  for  the  water.  There 
were  two  things  the  boy  did  admirably,  and  for 
which  he  was  conspicuous  beyond  his  years.  He 
held  his  tongue  and  obeyed  his  father ;  moreover,  he 
was  clever  enough  to  take  care  of  himself. 

With  the  first  of  May  the  ceaseless  journeying 
came  to  an  end,  and  Rupert  Oddminton  was  sent  to 
Washington  to  put  his  father's  old  schooner  in 
readiness  for  future  orders. 

The  press,  which  had  volunteered  during  the 
winter  much  plausible  but  little  real  information 
about  the  Avonderful  new  Herreshoff  model,  now 
blazed  into  the  rare  glory  of  fact. 

"  The  first  trial  trip  of  the  unknown  took  place  yesterday, 
The  marvellous  witch  astonished  spectators  by  showing  up  to  the 
tune  of  35£  knots,  and  it  is  suspected  the  end  was  not  reached. 
ITiis  unparalleled  speed  was  continuedfor  125  minutes  infavorable 


38        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

weather.  This  proved  the  most  successful  trial  trip  the  Herres- 
hoffs  ever  held.  Thus  the  singular  and  hitherto  undivulged  electric 
machinery  proves  a  triumphal  hit.  After  a  few  minor  changes 
the  unnamed  yacht  will  be  ready  for  its  destination.  Wfio  will 
own  the  fastest  ship  in  the  world  ?  It  is  conceded  that  she  goes 
to  Sweden.  Her  crew,  which  is  entirely  composed  of  Swedes, 
is  strangely  uncommunicative "  and  so  on. 

One  fine  clay,  the  magic  craft  shot  out  of  Newport 
harbor  and  vanished.  Some  said  she  went  straight 
to  Europe.  Each  daily  had  its  own  theory.  The 
boat  and  her  evanescence  were  a  nine  days'  wonder. 
The  yacht  that  represented  the  most  exhaustive 
skill  man  had  ever  applied  to  navigation  had  melted 
away,  unnamed,  unlicensed,  and  without  destina 
tion.  Even  her  builder  knew  her  no  more. 

The  reader  knows,  as  well  as  we,  that  this  triumph 
of  speed  was  Colonel  Oddminton's  venture.  He  had 
literally  sunk  his  all  in  it  with  maniacal  satisfaction, 
and  had  only  a  few  thousands  left,  barely  enough  to 
pay  expenses  for  three  months.  He  had  pursued 
his  ideal  until  he  had  her  under  foot.  He  had  not 
touched  the  new  yacht  until  after  it  had  left  the 
world  in  wonder.  He  had  now  met  her  on  the  high 
seas  in  his  old  schooner,  and  the  four — himself,  his 
boy  Rupert  and  the  two  black  sailors — with  sad 
eyes,  scuttled  the  home  of  many  years.  When  the 
Colonel's  foot  touched  his  new,  bright  deck,  Captain 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        39 

Christian  nodded,  and  the  blue  flag  to  starboard  of 
the  mainmast  (signifying  owner  absent)  was  hauled 
down.  The  crew  beheld  their  master  for  the  first 
time.  Not  a  sail  was  in  sight.  The  Colonel  was 
dazed.  He  went  below,  gulped  down  a  pint  of 
whiskey,  and  tried  to  think.  He  was  intoxicated — 
not  on  liquor,  but  on  final  possession.  When  he 
came  aloft,  spray  was  whistling  from  stem  to  stern, 
and  behind  was  a  wake  that  overtopped  the  racer 
itself.  Water  rushed  as  though  projected  through 
a  pipe,  past  the  shining  sides  of  the  vessel.  Colonel 
Oddminton,  in  a  trance,  leaned  over  and  touched  the 
steel  plates  carefully.  He  expected  to  feel  the  heat 
generated  by  the  tremendous  friction.  Captain 
Hans  Christian  stood  respectfully  at  his  side. 

"  What  speed  does  she  register,  Captain  ?  "  asked 
the  owner,  with  a  tremulousness  new  to  the  man. 

"  Only  thirty- two  knots,  sir,  in  this  chop,  but  we 
can  drive  her  thirty-eight.  I  think  she  can  go  forty 
on  the  hardest  push." 

Only  the  owner  of  Nancy  Hanks,  the  fastest  rac 
ing  horse  the  world  has  yet  produced,  can  imagine 
the  sensations  of  the  Colonel  at  this  answer. 

"  What  is  the  speed  of  the  fastest  government 
boat  ?  "  he  asked  with  deliberation. 

"  Twenty-six   knots,  sir,"  was  the  quick   reply  ; 


40        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

"  they've  only  two  torpedo  boats  that  go  that ;  and 
they  are  always  up  for  repairs.  As  for  war-ships 
or  cruisers,  none  average  over  twenty.  A  common 
ocean  steamer  can  beat  them  out."  This  last  was 
uttered  with  the  contemptuousness  one  always  feels 
toward  a  mighty  government  that  allows  itself  to  be 
outdone  by  corporations  or  individuals. 

"  Suppose  you  change  her  top  hampers,  and  make 
her  so  that  no  one  can  recognize  her ;  say,  tack  on 
a  false  stem  and  stern  to  the  water  line,  will  she 
still  go  as  fast ?  "  continued  the  Colonel  cautiously. 

"  Certainly,  provided  you  don't  interfere  with  her 
hull,"  answered  the  captain  in  surprise. 

"  I  will  take  the  wheel,"  the  Colonel  said.  The 
electric  vessel  from  whose  wheel  there  Avas  an  unob 
structed  view  ahead,  without  smokestack,  with  masts 
that  could  for  speed's  sake  be  lowered,  was  steered 
like  any  sailboat,  from  her  heaving  stern.  The 
owner's  hand  marked  half  speed,  quarter  speed  upon 
the  indicator.  To  the  disgust  of  the  crew  he  gave 
orders  not  to  have  the  speed  increased  except  to  keep 
out  of  sight  of  coasters.  At  dead  of  night  the 
beauty  was  anchored  in  his  own  cove,  opposite  his 
clapboard  shooting  lodge  on  the  marsh.  No  one 
noticed  his  approach.  The  marsh  and  the  bay  hid 
their  secret. 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        41 

The  next  clay  at  dawn  a  transformation  began  to 
take  place.  The  white  paint,  the  original  and  dainty 
body  color  of  the  electric  yacht,  was  changed  to  a 
dull  gray,  and  the  new  coat  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
put  on  in  amateur  patches,  so  dingy  was  its  appear 
ance.  The  boats  on  the  davits  were  touched  up  with 
a  combination  of  green  and  black.  They  looked  at 
first  glance  as  if  a  collier  might  have  lost  them  at 
sea.  The  electric  launch  was  smeared  with  the  re 
fuse  of  the  paintshop  put  into  one  pot.  The  mixture 
attained  was  indescribable.  But  by  far  the  greatest 
change  consisted  of  a  false  stem  and  stern.  These 
were  modelled  and  put  on,  so  that  after  a  few  screws 
were  drawn,  the  mask  would  slip  off,  leaving  the 
original  sheer  of  the  boat  in  all  its  beauty.  A  large 
smokestack  of  hollow  timber,  painted  black  with  a 
red  stripe,  was  improvised  and  set  up.  This  orna 
ment  led  into  the  galley  stove  below,  and  the  cook 
was  instructed  to  burn  smoky  materials  when  on  the 
run.  The  deck  was  then  covered  with  canvas  and 
painted  a  sickly  yellow.  The  brass  work  went  un 
polished.  As  may  be  imagined,  the  new  model  was 
as  different  from  the  old  as  the  carefully  disguised 

ruffian  on  the  stage  is  from  his  elegant  self. 

"Now  she  is  ready,"  said  Colonel  Oddminton  to  his 

captain.     "  I  will  double  the  wages  of  all  on  board  if 


42       A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A   PRESIDENT. 

the  crew  does  not  leave  the  ship  or  converse  with 
any  person  off  of  it  except  by  order.  My  two  colored 
men  will  get  all  supplies.  The  future  speed  of  my 
boat  will  be  eight  knots  an  hour.  She  is  incapable 
of  going  more.  That  is  her  limit  until  further  orders. 
Give  command  for  an  immediate  start.  We  will 
now  go  to  Charleston." 

The  son  and  the  crew  from  the  captain  down  sus 
pected  that  something  was  in  contemplation  out  of 
the  usual  run  of  pleasure  trips.  The  son  dared  ask 
his  father  no  questions,  though  he  burned  with  in 
dignation  at  the  vandal  changes.  The  crew  did  not 
care,  even  if  they  went  pirating.  Nothing  could 
overtake  them.  Their  fuel  Was  limitless.  Their  pay 
was  princely.  Their  cook  was  supreme.  These 
stolid  natures  obeyed  orders  and  drew  their  rations 
with  faithful  punctuality. 

It  does  not  take  long  to  run  to  Charleston,  going 
at  even  so  slow  a  pace.  Small  steamers  ply  daily 
between  the  Sea  Islands  and  the  cotton  metropolis. 
It  happened  that  some  of  the  Colonel's  acquaint 
ances  were  on  board  one  of  the  passenger  boats,  and 
they  saw  this  new  craft  lumbering  along,  puffing 
out  volumes  of  black  smoke.  They  slowed  up,  and 
were  soon  overtaken  by  the  strange  boat.  The 
Colonel  was  sitting  on  deck. 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        43 

«  Halloa,"  one  of  them  yelled,  laughing.  «  Where 
did  you  pick  up  that  thing,  Colonel  ?  " 

"  Oh,  down  in  New  York.  She's  an  old- fashioned 
steamer.  I  haven't  had  time  to  get  her  fixed  up 
yet,"  answered  the  Colonel.  "  I  always  wanted  a 
steam  yacht,  and  I  got  this  cheap."  The  passengers 
set  up  a  laugh. 

"  We'll  race  you  in,"  spoke  up  one  of  the  Colonel's 
acquaintances,  with  a  wink  at  the  others.  The  man 
knew  the  Colonel's  weakness  when  he  challenged 
him. 

"All  right,"  said  the  Colonel  briskly.  "John!" 
yelling  forward,  "tell  the  engineers  to  put  more 
steam  on  and  let  her  go." 

New  puffs  of  smoke  came  from  the  bogus  smoke 
stack.  The  sidewheeler  increased  her  pressure.  It 
forged  ahead  at  its  highest  speed,  ten  knots,  and  no 
more.  Colonel  Oddminton  swore,  but  to  no  effect. 
The  passenger  vessel  left  the  Colonel  behind,  amid 
jeers  and  all  the  catcalls  familiar  to  Southern 
methods  of  demonstration.  The  Colonel  seemed 
heartbroken.  When  he  steamed  into  Charleston 
harbor  two  hours  after  his  ancient  rival,  the  wharf 
was  crowded  with  the  Colonel's  "  friends."  When 
the  Colonel  came  ashore  he  dropped  a  few  char 
acteristic  oaths,  ordered  drinks  all  around,  and  said 


44        A  REPUBLIC  \V1TIIOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

that,  after  the  Mart/  Jane  (that  was  the  name 
painted  on  her  square-stern)  was  prinked  up  and 
her  bottom  scoured,  she  would  beat  the  best  of  them 
yet.  lie  had  great  faith  in  her  possibilities.  At 
any  rate  she  could  go  in  a  calm. 

Similar  performances  were  repeated  for  a  week. 
The  Colonel  planned  it  to  get  to  the  city  in  the  morning 
and  he  went  back  at  night,  until  Charleston  was  thor 
oughly  familiar  with  his  ridiculously  antique  yacht, 
and  had  joked  itself  tired  at  his  expense.  Soon  an 
elopement  and  a  murder  tickled  the  palate  of  the  city, 
and  the  Colonel  and  the  Manj  Jane  were  forgotten. 
When  that  stage  was  reached  Charleston  knew  him 
no  more.  It  was  now  the  second  of  June,  and  the 
Mar  if  Jane  turned  her  ugly  prow  toward  the  mouth 
of  the  Potomac  river. 

Every  one  knows  that  the  Potomac  empties  itself 
into  the  Chesapeake  bay.  The  Potomac  is  between 
ninety  and  a  hundred  miles  long,  in  its  tortuous 
route  from  Washington  to  the  bay.  At  its  mouth 
are  many  inlets.  Each  one  of  these  was  known  to 
Rupert  and  the  two  negro  sailors.  It  was  in  the 
most  retired  estuary  that  the  Mart/  Jane  cast  anchor 
on  the  evening  of  the  fifth  of  June.  At  her  normal 
rate  of  speed  she  lay  within  two  and  a  half  hours 
run  of  the  Capital.  At  nine,  at  black  of  night,  she 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        45 

started  for  Washington.  Her  deck-log  registered 
thirty-six  knots  an  hour.  She  hugged  the  shore, 
where  she  laid  for  safe  passage,  until  she  modestly 
crept  to  an  anchorage  near  a  city  wharf.  Then  the 
Colonel  went  ashore  with  his  two  black  men  and 
two  Swedes,  to  reconnoitre  the  town.  lie  always 
took  with  him  a  preparation  of  chloroform  and 
another  drug,  which,  for  the  sake  of  public  safety, 
we  will  not  mention.  This  was  compounded  for  him 
in  Chicago,  by  a  chemist  formerly  in  the  employ  of 
Anarchists.  This  preparation  was  warranted  to 
"  make  a  man  who  smelled  it  lose  consciousness  in 
less  time  that  it  takes  to  say  Herr  Most." 

When  Colonel  Oddminton  was  last  in  Washing 
ton  a  casual  smoking-room  acquaintance  remarked, 
eying  him  with  the  gaze  of  a  professional  physiog 
nomist  : 

"  If  you'd  shave  off  your  chin,  and  keep  your  hat 
on,  you'd  be  the  very  picture  of  Senator  X ." 

Now  Senator  X ,  tlno;igh  a  revolution  of  the 

political  wheel,  had  become  Secretary  of  State.  That 
casual  remark  had  penetrated  into  the  imagination 
of  the  Colonel.  He  tried  to  shake  the  impression 
off.  Flattered  by  this  suggestion — no  one  had  ever 
made  it  before — he  bought  photographs  of  the  Sena 
tor,  all  he  could  find,  and  studied  them  diligently. 


46        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

For  days  be  haunted  the  Senate  chamber  and  learned 
the  personnel  of  the  Senator  by  heart.  [This,  it 
will  be  remembered,  was  in  the  last  adminstration.] 
Then  was  born  the  thought,  Why  not  make  capital 
out  of  this  resemblance  which  art  could  easily  mag 
nify  ?  The  Senator  was  a  millionaire.  There  might 
be  money  in  it.  But  this  seemed,  after  all,  rather 
impracticable  and  rather  commonplace.  The  Colo 
nel  was  no  sneak  thief.  He  had  broader  elements 
than  that.  The  man,  but  not  the  blood,  was  igno 
rant  that  his  grandfather's  great-grandfather  was 
hung  for  piracy  in  England.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  state  when  the  stupendous  plot,  which  he  finally 
executed,  shaped  itself  in  his  subtile  brain.  This 
idea  startled  him,  haunted  him,  conquered  him  ;  why 
not  kidnap  the  President  of  the  United  States,  de  - 
mand  a  ransom  and  throw  suspicion,  for  a  time  at 
least,  upon  the  wily  politician  ?  His  thoughts  now 
worked  only  in  that  conduit.  Jacobi  said  that  the 
greater  a  man's  ability  to  act  for  distant  ends,  the 
stronger  his  mind.  The  Colonel  silently  plotted  for 
months.  We  see  where  it  had  led  him.  Having 
studiously  perfected  himself  in  the  role  of  Secretary, 
which  he  was  prepared  to  play  at  a  moment's  notice, 
the  Colonel  spent  the  remainder  of  these  last  nights 
in  Washington,  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  capture 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        47 

the  Secretary's  coach,  after  it  had  been  dismissed 
by  its  owner  for  the  night. 

He  also  kept  himself  closely  informed  of  the 
President's  habits  and  his  simple  domestic  hours 
without  arousing  any  suspicion.  All  Washington 
knew  the  customs  of  its  unostentatious  chief. 
Society  had  criticised  his  "  affected  Democratic 
ways."  Every  one  knew  that  he  habitually  retired 
as  early  as  a  New  England  deacon,  never  later  than 
eleven.  White  House  dissipation  wTas  now  out  of 
season.  The  Colonel  knew  that  the  interior  of  the 
executive  mansion  was  unguarded  at  night.  Could 
he  once  gain  access  thereto,  the  rest  of  his  plot,  so 
ignorant  and  so  trustworthy  his  tools,  could  not 
miscarry.  The  Colonel  made  the  attempt  for  three 
consecutive  nights  to  capture  the  Secretary's  coach. 
He  arrived  each  time  in  Washington  between  eleven 
and  twelve.  He  knew  the  approaches  to  the  stable, 
and  luckily  for  him,  on  the  dark  night  of  the  eighth 
of  June  he  accomplished  his  design,  how  successfully 
the  reader  well  knows. 

The  strategic  Colonel,  with  his  four  devoted  men, 
invaded  the  privacy  of  the  White  House  at  exactly 
quarter  of  two  o'clock  in  the  morning ;  he  had  the 
aid  of  a  card  taken  from  the  case  in  the  coupe,  and  the 
re-enforcement  of  his  now  marvellous  resemblance. 


48        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

What  he  now  did  the  veriest  tyro  could  have  per 
formed.  He  had  not  meant  to  abduct  the  first  lady 
of  the  land,  but  what  could  he  do  with  her?  His 
native  chivalry  would  not  permit  him  to  harm  her, 
though  the  President  was  made  unconscious  by  the 
aid  of  the  Chicago  anaesthetic.  The  wife  entreated 
to  accompany  her  husband.  She  would  undergo 
any  fate  so  that  he  should  not  be  taken  without  her. 
On  condition  of  perfect  quiet  her  wish  was  gratified. 
She  was  softly  led,  the  President  was  carried,  down 
the  deserted  stairs.  The  familiar  state  coach  bore 
the  distinguished  victims  away,  and  the  deed  that 
baffled  the  detective  skill  of  the  country  was  done 
with  an  ease  which  seems  ridiculous. 

The  next  evening  the  President  and  his  wife 
might  have  been  seen  by  Inspector  Byrnes,  had  he 
been  there,  silently  sitting  on  the  deck  of  a  murky- 
looking  vessel,  bearing  name  3 fart/  Jane,  and  an 
chored  in  a  little  cove  off  a  swamp  and  cottage  on 
Oddmintoii  Island.  So  remote  and  quiet  was  this 
locality  that  the  rumor  of  the  President's  effacement 
had  not  even  reached  it.  The  kidnapped  couple 
waited  patiently  for  the  relief  that  they  momentarily 
expected.  They  had  no  news,  nothing  but  scrupu 
lous  consideration,  attention,  and  a  respectful  but 
firm  guard  night  and  day.  But  rescue  did  not  come. 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        49 

One  member  of  that  dark  crew  was  left  in  Wash 
ington  to  hold  continual  communication  with  the 
Colonel.  This  was  the  boy  Rupert,  who,  if  he  had 
suspected  by  this  time  what  had  happened,  was 
either  too  loyal  or  too  terrified  to  reveal  the  fact. 
The  letters  that  astonished  the  world  were  written 
by  the  Colonel,  sent  to  his  son  sealed,  directed  each 
in  a  different  handwriting,  and  stamped  with  full 
instructions  how  and  where  to  mail  them.  The 
boy  had  travelled  faithfully  and  far.  Of  course  a 
letter  posted  by  an  innocent-looking  boy  of  fifteen, 
who  was  unsuspected  and  unknown,  was  able  to 
baffle  the  law.  He  was  th'e  only  confederate,  a  help 
less  and  faithful  tool. 

A  country  that  opens  itself  in  so  many  ways  to 
'foreign  foes  must  not  be  startled  if  one  of  its  own 
sons,  perceiving  the  weakness  of  the  armor,  should 
take  advantage  of  it  and  choose  his  direction  for  the 
vital  thrust.  The  Colonel  aimed  high.  He  kept  his 
counsel  and  accomplished  the  incredible  in  the 
simplest  way.  Who  thought  of  him  and  the  crazy 
Mary  Jam  f  The  President  and  his  wife  were  as 
far  away  from  rescue  as  if  they  were  on  the  Island 
of  Borneo.  There  are  a  thousand  such  places  on 
our  coast  where  a  hostile  fleet  might  ride  without 
even  the  suspicion  of  our  «  Lord  High  Admiral." 


50        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

It  was  ten  minutes  of  eight  o'clock  on  the  morning 
of  the  eighth  of  July.  A  fleet  of  many  hundred 
vessels  of  every  description  'lined  the  banks  of  the 
Potomac  opposite  the  revered  home  of  Washington. 
There  were  gunhoats  and  catboats,  excursion  steam 
ers  and  yachts  from  every  part  of  the  country.  They 
idly  lay  at  anchor,  or  jogged  barely  enough  to  hold 
their  own  in  the  tidal  river.  All  flags  hung  at  half- 
mast.  While  most  eyes  scanned  the  heights  with 
impatient  glance,  others  watched  the  water  for  a 
revelation.  The  sides  of  the  hills  were  black  with 
humanity.  The  world  seemed  to  wait  there  with  a 
throe  of  hope  subsiding  to  an  interval  of  despair. 

The  high  officials  of  the  government  were  stand 
ing  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  new  man-of-war,  The 
Washington.  Each  had  a  pair  of  glasses  to  his  in 
tent  eyes.  This  was  the  moment  when  the  Secretary 
of  State,  from  his  high  elevation,  spied  a  long, 
low  vessel  moving  slowly  amid  the  floating  palaces 
and  dreary  hulks.  It  seemed  apologetic  in  its  move 
ments,  and  afforded  a  sad  contrast  to  the  jaunty 
yachts  it  almost  grazed.  None  but  the  Secretary 
had  as  yet  noticed  this  insignificant  boat.  Somehow 
it  fascinated  him,  and  he  followed  it  intently.  It 
was  propelled  by  steam,  and  crept  up  as  if  it  wranted 
a  nearer  view  of  the  morning's  performance. 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.         51 

Now  a  police  patrol  launch  whistled  that  way, 
and  gave  the  sailor  at  the  wheel  an  abrupt  command 
to  bring  her  up  to  a  stop.  Hardly  was  this  order 
given  when  there  came  a  puff  of  smoke  from  her  un 
couth  bow,  and  an  ominous  naming  sword  appeared 
against  the  dead  gray  sky.  A  sound  that  could  at 
first  have  been  mistaken  for  a  subterranean  growl 
rolled  upon  the  still  air.  When  the  second  flaming 
sword  flashed  into  mid-heaven  the  mutter  of  the 
populace  became  a  roar.  It  was  true !  True !  The 
President  and  their  lady  were  at  hand  and  in  their 
midst.  Two  more  ill-omened  rockets  gleamed  above. 
Was  it  execration  or  was  it  joy — this  mighty  sound 
that  broke  from  river  to  shore  ?  Then  silence  came 
again.  Eyes  strained  to  see  this  mysterious  thing  that 
made  straight  for  the  great  man-of-war.  But  one 
soul  was  seen  on  its  dingy  decks.  Only  the  man  at 
the  wheel  was  visible .  He  was  clad  in  black .  A  hun 
dred  vessels  instinctively  closed  about  this  daring 
and  defiant  craft.  Its  escape  was  cut  off.  It  could 
neither  go  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  forward  nor 
back.  It  sullenly  stopped. 

Then  came  a  whistling  shriek,  followed  by  a  can 
non  peal  from  its  forequarter — another — and  the 
flag  of  black  and  crimson  crowned  by  the  gilt  eagle, 


52        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

touched  by  unseen  hands,  shot  like  a  baleful  spirit 
from  the  peak. 

"  Keep  off  !  "  shouted  a  stern  voice  from  the  bow. 
"  Keep  off,  ahead  there  !  Let  the  nation  stand  back 
at  the  peril  of  their  chief  magistrate !  " 

Now  the  Mystery  swung  ahead,  until  she  was 
abreast  of  the  high  warship,  any  one  of  whose  lower 
ing  guns  would  have  gladly  shattered  her  if  it  had 
dared. 

When  the  execrable  vessel  came  to  a  halt,  and 
breathless  and  dignified  faces  peered  upon  her  decks 
from  above,  a  sudden  bustle  was  observed.  From 
below  there  mounted  slowly  his  excellency  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States,  attended  by  the  first  lady 
of  the  land.  Both  looked  pale  and  anxious,  but  bore 
signs  of  powerful  self-restraint.  At  sight  of  the  re 
vered  couple,  the  man-of-war's  crew  could  not  con 
trol  themseves,  and  set  up  a  mighty  cheer.  This 
was  caught  up  from  ship  to  ship,  from  shore  to 
height.  Flags  were  hauled  aloft.  Guns  were  dis 
charged.  A  pandemonium  of  joy  set  in.  Behind 
the  captured  couple  two  men  in  black  walked,  each 
with  a  cocked  revolver.  The  honored  pair  reclined 
on  steamer  chairs  in  full  view  of  their  people.  The 
world  knew  now  that  they  were  safe  and  nearly 
home.  Greetings, were  exchanged  between  Cabinet 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.         53 

and  Chief.     Even  war-scarred   veterans  could  not 
choke  down  the  rising  apple  in  their  throats. 

Again  there  was  a  hush.  A  figure  now  stepped 
from  a  forward  hatchway  on  deck  of  the  Mary  Jane, 
walked  up  to  the  captured  couple,  and  bowed  low. 
This  salute  was  succeeded  by  a  courteous  recognition 
of  the  impatient  crowd  above  on  board  the  Washing 
ton.  As  the  unknown  raised  his  silk  hat  for  the 
second  time,  he  stood  directly  in  line  with  the 
Secretary  of  State.  The  Secretary  of  State  and 
Col.  Oddminton  regarded  each  other.  Bystanders 
started  in  surprise.  The  resemblance  between  the 
two  men  was  deeply  suggestive  of  the  success  of  the 
plot.  The  villain  had  the  same  noble  brow,  the 
same  delicate  complexion,  the  same  incomparable 
whiskers.  But,  alas !  he  was  bald  on  the  top  of  his 
head.  The  Secretary  involuntarily  stroked  his  own 
luxuriant  crown  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Gentlemen,  representatives  of  these  United 
States,"  said  the  Colonel  slowly,  "  I  have  faithfully 
fulfilled  my  part  of  the  contract.  Do  you  yours.  I 
will  come  aboard  and  inspect  the  ransom.  Then  it 
may  be  lowered  down,  and  the  President  is  free.  I 
have  not  long  to  stay."  In  the  meanwhile,  so  intent 
were  all  eyes  upon  the  star  actors  of  this  scene,  it 
was  not  noticed  that  men  were  busily  engaged 


54        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

at  stem  and  stern  of  the  unshipshape-looking 
steamer. 

Hands  worked  deftly  at  masts  and  funnel. 

After  a  few  minutes,  during  which  the  expectant 
couple  sat  with  as  much  comfort  as  one  can  before 
loaded  pistols,  the  ransom  was  inspected,  the 
Colonel  satisfied.  Eighty  bags  of  gold  were  care 
fully  lowered  to  the  pirate  craft. 

As  the  Colonel  descended  alone  to  his  own  deck 
he  motioned  with  his  hand.  Immediately  the  pistols 
were  flung  into  the  water.  The  seamen  in  black  fell 
back  as  a  guard  of  honor.  The  Colonel,  with  South 
ern  grace  and  British  dignity,  extended  his  arm  to 
the  distinguished  and  trembling  hostage.  This  she 
did  not  refuse  and  he  led  her  to  the  cream-white 
companionway  that  now  reached  from  the  Washing 
ton  to  the  Mary  Jane.  The  marines  presented  arms. 
The  women  sobbed.  Then  came  the  President. 
When  his  foot  touched  his  own  deck  there  thundered 
forth  a  salute  of  twenty-one  guns  from  the  American 
navy.  Whistles  blew,  flags  and  handkerchiefs 
fluttered,  and  mad  salvos  rent  the  air  from  subjects 
that  any  sovereign  would  gladly  call  his  own. 

The  President  now  looked  down  with  sad  curios 
ity  upon  his  former  prison.  But  there  strange  things 
had  happened.  The  caterpillar  had  cast  off  its 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.      55 

chrysalis,  and  the  incomparable  butterfly  appeared^ 
Where  was  the  smokestack?  Where  were  the 
masts  ?  Where  was  the  Mary  Jane  ?  A  load  seemed 
to  fall  from  stem  to  stern,  and  there  appeared 
beneath  dingy  paint  a  sheer  which  a  king  might 
long  to  possess.  This  was  the  crowning  surprise. 
Naval  officers  now  recognized  for  the  first  time  the 
nautical  marvel  which  had  deluded  the  nation. 

The  Colonel  stood  alone  upon  the  deck  of  the  trans 
figured  boat.  With  uncovered  head  he  spoke.  His 
left  hand  grasped  the  wheel. 

"  Mr.  President — I  have  guarded  you  safely,  and 
treated  you  as  well  as  circumstances  could  permit. 
Your  patience  in  adversity,  and  that  of  your  wife,  have 
compelled  my  reverence.  You  were  but  the  scape 
goat  of  a  nation.  This  country  can  never  afford  to 
be  careless  of  its  defences  and  of  the  treasures  which 
they  protect.  People  of  America  !  You  regard  me 
as  the  chief  malefactor  of  your  times.  The  day 
may  come  when  you  will  call  me  its  greatest  bene 
factor.  To-day  you  execrate  me.  To-morrow  you 
may  bless  me.  I  have  taught  you  a  solemn  and  a 
costly  lesson,  but  the  price  of  such  wisdom  is  cheap. 
Good-morning ! " 

There  was  no  opening,  but  the  hawsers  were  sud 
denly  cut.  There  was  a  rush  and  billows  of  foam. 


56        A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT. 

As  a  cat  plays  here  and  there  in  her  pretty  antics 
the  "  Lightning  "  (for  a  blow  of  the  hammer  on  the 
stern  had  annihilated  the  Mary  Jane)  wound  in  and 
out  at  an  unequal  rate.  When  she  turned,  she  ca 
reened  far  over  on  her  side.  The  water  lapped  the 
Colonel's  feet.  Who  could  stop  her  ?  Who  could 
overtake  her?  At  the  first  shock  the  gunners  stood 
motionless,  then  sprang  to  their  guns.  The  Presi 
dent,  Commander-in-chief  of  the  army  and  navy, 
raised  his  hand  and  shook  his  head. 

The  faith  of  the  nation  was  pledged,  and  the  pirate 
escaped  without  a  shot.  The  incredible  speed  of 
the  Lightning  increased.  It  became  terrific.  Nothing 
like  it  had  ever  been  witnessed  in  maritime  history. 
Spectators  stood  with  held  breath. 

A  lieutenant  in  his  excitement  shouted:  "For 
God's  sake,  overtake  her ! " 

.  The    crowd    yelled  :     "  Run   them  clown !     See 
where  they  go !  " 

But  the  navy  of  the  United  States  might  as  well 
have  chased  a  cannon  ball.  The  mental  pressure 
became  tremendous.  Spectators  had  hardly  drawn  a 
breath  when  the  miracle  was  hull  down.  The  Ameri 
can  love  of  audacity  and  speed  struggled  mightily  for 
the  moment  with  American  patriotism.  The  moral 
sense  of  the  people  could  not  prevent  a  murmur  of 


A  REPUBLIC  WITHOUT  A  PRESIDENT.        57 

admiration  when  the  Lightning,  with  eight  millions 
of  national  gold  aboard,  in  less  than  nine  minutes  was 
but  a  speck.  A  bend  of  the  river,  and  the  myste 
rious,  courtly  and  successful  pirate  was  gone. 


THE  LOST  CITY, 


THE    LOST    CITY- 


i. 

"  GREAT  guns !  "  The  ejaculator  tipped  his  straw 
hat  off  with  his  left  hand,  let  it  roll  upon  the  office 
floor,  made  a  dab  for  a  damp  pocket  handkerchief 
in  his  right  pistol  pocket,  and  stared  at  the  yellow 
paper  again.  "  Whew  !  I  don't  believe  it ! "  he  mut 
tered.  Then,  aware  that  the  keen  eyes  of  the  three- 
and-a-half -foot  messenger  boy  were  upon  him,  as 
if  sizing  him  up  for  news,  he  stared  at  the  telegram 
again,  mumbled  "  It's  a  fake  !  Great  guns  ! "  and 
rushed  from  the  room. 

The  messenger  boy  looked  after  the  editor's  re 
treating  form  with  a  knowing  wink,  as  if  the  whole 
thing  had  been  a  special  job  put  up  by  himself, 
whistled  "Annie  Rooney,"  took  up  a  tattered  copy 
of  "  Famous  Quotations,"  laid  it  down  again  with  an 
expression  of  mingled  respect  and  scepticism,  char- 


62  THE  LOST  CITY. 

acteristic  of  his  kind,  and  then  swaggered  out  of  the 
editorial  sanctum. 

"Well,  Swift,  what's  up  now?" 

The  editor-in-chief  of  the  Daily  Planet  (Demo 
cratic)  lifted  his  young,  alert  face  from  the  evening 
edition  of  his  own  journal  to  that  of  his  news  editor. 
Interruptions  were  the  expected  thing  in  that  stir 
ring  office. 

Swift  did  not  speak,  but  laid  the  telegram  upon 
the  desk,  pulled  out  a  Victoria  Regina,  and  chewed 
it  nervously.  The  chief  read  the  message  through 
once  to  himself,  gave  one  glance  at  the  face  of  his 
subordinate,  and  then  said : 

"  This  is  a  repeat,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes  sir.  First  news  came  three  hours  ago.  I 
didn't  believe  it.  Thought  it  a  fake.  Half  think  so 
still.  I  wouldn't  insert  it,  and  wired  for  an  imme 
diate  reply.  Here  it  is.  It  is  too  late  for  the  five 
o'clock  edition.  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Well,  this  is  extraordinary  !  "  conceded  the  chief. 
This  admission  meant  a  great  deal  in  that  office,  del 
uged  with  news  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  where 
it  frequently  happened  that  fourteen  columns  of  pur 
chased  and  paid  for  telegraphic  despatches  were  not 
considered  important  enough  to  use,  and  were 
dropped  in  the  waste-paper  basket.  The  chief 


THE  LOST  CITY.  63 

pressed  the  button  in  his  desk  and  asked  the  boy 
that  appeared  to  inform  Mr.  Ticks  that  he  was 
wanted  at  once. 

Mr.  Statis  Ticks  answered  the  summons  prompt 
ly.  He  was  a  sallow,  faded,  middle-aged  man, 
dressed  in  a  sere  and  faded  Prince  Albert  coat,  with 
sallow  and  faded  boots.  In  fact,  the  whole  appear 
ance  of  this  invaluable  member  of  the  Planet  corps 
gave  one  the  impression  of  the  last  minute  of  autumn, 
when  even  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  the  stones  of  the 
hills,  the  soil  of  the  valleys  look  sere  and  yellow  and 
faded  and  ready  for  a  winter's  sleep.  Mr.  Ticks 
looked  as  if  he  were  waiting  for  the  trance  that  never 
overcame  him. 

"  I  wish  to  know  something  of  Russell,  the  capi 
tal  of  the  new  State  of  Harrison,  Mr.  Ticks." 

Mr.  Ticks  pulled  out  a  yellow,  faded,  silk  bandanna, 
wiped  his  spectacles  sadly,  and  with  an  over-aspi 
rated  tone  asked : 

"Yes,  sir?" 

Mr.  Swift  looked  at  him  with  mingled  disgust  and 
respect,  and  tapped  his  foot  impatiently  on  the  bare 
floor. 

"  Let  me  see ;  it  is  situated  ?  "  proceeded  the  chief 
quietly. 

"  On  the  southeast  shore  of  the  Great  Gopher  lake." 
Mr.  Ticks  finished  the  sentence  mechanically. 


64  THE  LOST  CITY. 

"  Ah !  I  remember.     Its  population  ?  " 

"  Twenty-nine  thousand  five  hundred  and  fifty- 
two.  It  increases  at  the  rate  of  thirty  a  day.1' 

"  Exactly  so  !     It  is —  ?  " 

"Just  two  years  nine  months  and  twelve  days 
old." 

"  To  be  sure.     Its  property —  ?  " 

"  Is  one  hundred  and  sixty-four  million  dollars, 
in  round  numbers ." 

"Of  course.     Its  industries  are — ?" 

"  The  usual  pertaining  to  Western  cities,  I  sup 
pose.  I  confess  ignorance  to  concrete  particulars. 
The  reports  have  been  singularly  deficient  in  this 
respect.  I  credit  this  entirely  to  its  youth." 

"  Indeed  !     Its  railroad  facilities—  ?  " 

"  The  C.  II.  &  S.  F.'is  its  great  trunk  line.  Three 
branch  lines  have  their  centre  there-just  built.  Two 
roads  are  surveyed  to  shorten  the  distance  to  Chicago 
and  San  Francisco  respectively." 

"  Any  other  facts  of  interest,  Mr.  Ticks  ?  "  Mr. 
Ticks  hesitated. 

"  Well — no — yes — no.  In  fact,  there  is  nothing 
of  special  importance  that  I — that  is  different  from 
any  other  city — except — nothing,  sir,  that  I  am  will 
ing  to  stake  my  professional  reputation  upon  ;  you 
must  excuse  me,  sir," 


THE  LOST  CITY.  65 

«  Is  it  in  the  cyclone  area,  Mr.  Ticks  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  The  centre  of  barometric  depression  is 
farther  north.  The  Buzzard  mountains  to  the  south 
deflect  all  such  storm  centres.  Russell  will  be  sin 
gularly  free  from  tornadoes. " 

The  editor-in-chief  looked  somewhat  nonplussed, 
and  handed  Mr.  Ticks  the  telegram,  with  the  remark  : 

«  What  do  you  think  of  that?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir.     I  cannot  give  an  opinion. " 

"  I,  Mr.  Ticks,  I  for  one  believe  this  is  true.  I'll 
— I'll  stake  my  reputation  on  it ! "  said  Swift  de 
cidedly.  Mr.  Ticks'  exasperating  caution  grated  on 
the  news  editor  and  converted  his  scepticism  into 
conviction. 

"  If  it  is, "  replied  his  chief,  quietly,  "  you  can  start 
for  the  scene  to-night  on  the  six  thirty  express. 
You  did  up  the  Charleston  earthquake.  You  were 
the  first  on  the  spot  at  Johnstown,  and  this  promises 
to  be  as  bad — or  as  good." 

Swift  tried  to  look  indifferent  at  this  cumulation 
of  trust.  He  had  been  on  the  paper  for  five  years  ;  he 
had  started  in  as  night  reporter,  and  his  own  ability 
and  quickness,  united  with  a  certain  caution,  one 
might  call  it  a  news  integrity,  had  raised  him  to  his 
present  position.  The  Planet  had  the  singular  reputa 
tion  of  printing  the  truth.  It  rarely  was  "  taken  in," 

with  a  false  item.     It  aspired  far  beyond  the  local, 

5 


66  THE  LOST  CITY. 

The  Planet,  under  the  able  management  of  its  chief 
and  of  Swift,  had  become  the  mirror  of  the  world. 
And,  if  at  times  it  reflected  important  news  from  a 
convex  surface,  it  did  no  more  and  far  less  than  the 
majority  of  its  contemporaries,  who  had  no  tele 
graphic  facts  to  throw  away  daily,  and  who,  when 
hard  pressed  to  it,  manufactured  a  murder  at  home  or 
a  war  rumor  abroad  to  help  pad  their  lean  columns. 

"  Let  me  see!  It  is  five  forty-five,"  continued  the 
chief,  consulting  his  watch.  "  I  will  not  detain  you 
any  longer,  Mr.  Ticks.  We  shall  want  a  column 
from  you  on  Russell,  to-night.  And  now,  Swift," — 
when  Mr.  Ticks  had  faded  out  of  the  room, — "  who's 
this  correspondent  signed  D.  ?  " 

"It's  Dubbs.  You  know  him.  Associated  press 
man  and  special  correspondent.  Never  failed  me. 
lie's  the  only  one  there  who  knows  our  cipher." 

The  editor-in-chief  did  not  change  his  expression, 
but  his  eyes  had  the  steady,  stern  look  that  showed 
easy  determination.  lie  quickly  wrote  a  few  words 
on  his  pad  and  handed  them  to  his  favorite  "sub." 

"  Take  this  to  the  cashier  !  Get  to  the  elevated  as 
fast  as  you  can !  Buy  what  you  need  when  you  get 
time,  and — go  !  I  depend  on  you  for  the  fullest  de 
scription  to  be  had.  If  you  do  as  well  as  you  did  on 
the  Conernaugh,  I'll  give  you  a  raise  on  your  return, 
Good  luck  to  you," 


THE  LOST  CITY.  67 

It  did  not  take  Mr.  Swift  five  minutes  to  rush  to 
his  den,  slip  on  his  coat,  snatch  his  hat  from  the 
floor,  run  downstairs,  receive  a  fat  roll  of  bills  from 
the  phlegmatic  cashier  and  bolt  for  the  elevated 
train.  In  twenty- five  minutes  he  was  at  the  cen 
tral  station,  with  two  minutes  to  spare.  He  nodded 
pleasantly  to  the  gatekeeper  and  boarded  the  train 
as  nonchalantly  as  if  he  were  going  to  his  suburban 
boarding-house. 


68  THE  LOST  CITY. 


II. 

ALL  of  our  readers  will  remember  the  curiosity, 
the  speculation,  the  horror,  the  apprehension,  and 
the  sympathy  universally  excited  when,  on  the  tenth 
of  September,  it  was  learned  from  the  morning 
papers  that  Russell,  the  new  capital  of  Harrison,  was 
cut  off  from  all  communication.  Each  morning 
sheet  hinted  darkly  at  the  cause  of  this  unheard-of 
calamity.  The  Daily  Braggart  said  there  was  no 
doubt  that  a  cyclone  of  gigantic  proportions,  fol 
lowed  by  a  water- spout,  had  swept  the  city  entirely 
away,  and  that  its  evening  edition  would  print  full 
details  of  the  "  awful  visitation,"  with  pictures  by 
their  special  artists,  now  on  the  spot,  illustrating 
the  ruin. 

But  there  was  one  piece  of  additional  news  about 
Russell  that  only  the  Daily  Planet  gave.  Let  us 
quote,  in  order  to  be  perfectly  accurate.  The  sheet 
is  before  us  as  we  write : 


THE  LOST  CITY.  69 

«  EXTRAORDINARY  CALAMITY ! 


"  The  citizens  of  the  State  of  Harrison  are  wild 
with  apprehension.  As  yet  ice  cannot  speculate  on 
the  nature  of  this  disaster.  Up  to  this  moment  no 
one  Jcnows  what  it  is.  We  will  be  lionest,  and  saij 
ice  know  no  more  than  our  neighbors.  J3ut  this 
much  is  assured:  JVot  only  is  communication  cut 
off  within  a  radius  of  twenty  miles  of  the  ill-fated 
city,  but  it  is  impossible  to  re-establish  it  at  pres 
ent.  There  are  forces  at  work  as  yet  uncatalogued 
by  scientists.  There  is  a  definite  circle  drawn 
about  Russell,  and  to  cross  it  means  death.  Two 
men  repairing  the  C.  II.  &  S.  F.  tracks  dropped, 
smitten  by  a  mysterious  and  invisible  hand.  The 
white  mile  post  announced  that  Russell  was  twenty 
miles  from  the  spot  wliere  the  corpses  of  these 
brave  fellows  lay.  What  baneful  miasma  envelops 
this  broad  area  f  What  is  the  fate  of  the  thousands 
within  its  borders?  Time  will  tell.  Our  reporters 
are  on  the  spot.  But  as  we  go  to  press  we  do  not 
know." 

Most  people  sniffed  at  this  "  dead  line  "  as  the 
wildest  newspaper  canard  of  the  lot.  Many  shook 
their  heads.  While  those  who  had  relatives  or 


70  THE  LOST  CITY. 

friends  or  business  connections  in  Russell  tried  to 
drown  their  horrible  suspense  as  best  they  could. 

The  Planet,  it  may  be  remembered,  closed  its 
leading  editorial  as  follows  : 

"  We  are  a  Democratic  paper,  and  ice  had  little 
love  for  this  baby  State  and  its  upstart  capital,  cre 
ated  solely  to  guarantee  a  Republican  majority  at 
the  next  presidential  election.  But  when  the  news 
that  an  inscrutable  fate  had  overtaken  this  fraud 
ulent  State  (ice  may  be  pardoned  for  saying  that  it 
seems  to  us  a  sort  of  Divine  retribution  for  political 
jobbery}  party  feeling  was  washed  away  in  that 
common  compassion  that  all  Christians  feel  for 
their  enemies  in  adversity" 

Who  could  mistake  the  diction  of  the  uncompro 
mising  but  tender  chief? 

But  it  happened  this  time,  as  so  often  before,  that 
the  Planet's  information  was  true.  Again  that  en 
terprising  daily  had  made  its  "  scoop  "  on  the  other 
papers.  Its  elation  was  pardonable. 

It  is  an  indisputable  fact  that  civilization  as  it 
progresses  develops  in  its  advance  new  diseases 
and  new  catastrophes.  Hay  fever  and  la  grippe 
were  not  popular  a  hundred  years  ago.  To  breed  a 
first-class  cyclone,  cut  down  your  trees  and  dry  up 
your  water  supply.  This  has  been  conscientiously 


THE  LOST  CITY.  71 

attended  to,  and  the  natural  consequences  have  fol 
lowed.  Science  can  eliminate  the  simooms  that 
strike  Bombay  and  Calcutta  at  such  a  day  year 
after  year,  by  simply  flooding  the  desert  of  Sa 
hara.  England  can  be  more  easily  conquered  by 
deflecting  the  Gulf  Stream  a  quarter  of  a  point  than 
by  a  thousand  ironclads.  Who  knows  but  that  it 
would  be  less  expensive  to  change  her  into  a  glacier 
than  to  bombard  her  with  hundred-ton  guns  ? 

More  white  people  are  killed  by  railroad  accidents 
yearly  in  our  highly  civilized  land  than  were  slaugh 
tered  by  native  braves  in  the  palmy  days  of  the 
"Last  of  the  Mohicans."  It  is  a  fact  that  our 
boasted  civilization,  instead  of  affording  surer  pro 
tection,  murders  more  men  in  one  way  or  another 
than  barbarism,  only  in  the  present  case  the  vic 
tims  are  not  eaten ;  the  coffins  are  sumptuous ;  the 
processions  decorous ;  the  mourners  in  good 
form  ;  the  burial  service  pregnant  with  hope,  and 
culture  is  not  shocked.  With  us  murder  is  commit 
ted  by  corporations,  not  by  paid  assassins.  That  is 
the  difference.  The  assassin  fails  in  his  blows  once 
in  a  while ;  the  corporation  never. 

But  where  was  Russell  ?  What  was  the  nature 
of  the  calamity  ?  The  impenetrable  fact  that  there 
was  an  actual,  invisible  dead  line  cast  about  that 


72  THE  LOST  CITY. 

territory,  with  Russell  as  its  centre,  became  confirmed 
with  every  report.  It  will  be  recalled  that  all  the  rail 
road  tracks  entering  the  doomed  city  were  twisted  as 
if  clawed  by  a  maddened  monster.  It  presented 
a  similar  appearance  to  the  South  Carolina  railroad 
on  the  day  of  the  Charleston  earthquake.  This  gave 
rise  again  to  the  earthquake  theory.  But  why  had 
not  the  shock  been  felt  ?  No  rumble  had  been  heard. 
Could  an  earthquake  account  for  the  deadly  some 
thing  that  filled  the  air  ? 

No  intelligence  came  from  Russell.  The  way  must 
be  forced  to  it. 

Who  forgets  the  relief  expeditions  started  in 
wTagons  and  on  foot  from  every  point  of  the  com 
pass  ?  These  were  invariably  repelled  on  reaching 
the  dead  line.  We  could  understand  the  fetid 
miasma  that  made  the  Great  Dismal  Swamp  an 
unknowable  country.  We  could  comprehend  the 
encroaching  dead  line  of  the  spreading  yellow  fever 
bacillus.  But  this  fearful  death,  that  brooded 
silently,  impenetrably,  mysteriously  and  occultly 
over  a  vast  area  once  the  garden  of  civilization, 
baffled  all  attempts  at  explanation.  Even  birds  were 
observed  to  vacate  this  tract.  Only  a  few  sinister 
buzzards  wheeled  their  flight,  with  straight,  unflap- 
ping  wings,  high  above  Russell,  almost  out  of  sight, 


THE  LOST  CITY.  73 

as  if  they  were  the  embodied  ghosts  of  Russell's 

unbaptized  inhabitants. 

What  was  that  implacable  power  ?  Reporters  and 
trackmen  who  steadily  scoffed  at  it  were  themselves 
attacked  with  violent  heart-beats  when  they  crossed 
the  invisible  and  fatal  line.  A  convulsion  of  all  the 
members  followed,  as  if  in  an  epileptic  fit, — insensi 
bility  and,  generally,  death  ensued.  Many  who  were 
with  difficulty  rescued,  and  who  finally  recovered, 
averred  that  they  experienced  an  overcoming  odor, 
acid  and  penetrating,  such  as  is  peculiar  to  ozone 
when  manufactured  in  a  chemical  laboratory. 

At  the  end  of  the  fourth  day  of  Russell's  complete 
isolation  a  despair  settled  upon  the  country.  Eng 
land  was  staggered  by  the  uniqueness  of  these  phe 
nomena.  The  French  Academy  of  Sciences,  after  a 
prolonged  sitting,  announced  that  they  could  suggest 
no  solution.  It  is  only  too  well  remembered  that 
the  newspaper  bulletins  were  besieged  in  our  own 
cities,  but  these  offered  no  further  information  or 
encouragement.  Was  advanced  civilization  respon 
sible  for  this  disaster  or  not  ?  That  was  the  burning 
question.  Or  was  this  a  special  visitation  of  God,  a 
plague  new  to  the  medical  world,  spontaneously 
generated,  sporadic  in  its  appearance,  and  destined 
forever  to  be  an  obscurum  per  obscurius  or  perhaps  tc 
spread  with  further  undetermined  horrors  ? 


74  THE  LOST  CITY. 

Thousands  were  now  on  the  ground.  They  en 
compassed  that  section  about  as  Joshua  did  the 
city  of  Jericho,  as  the  settlers  did  the  Territory  of 
Oklahoma  011  the  day  of  its  opening,  as  the  rabble 
do  a  house  when  a  murder  has  been  committed. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  from  the  time 
when  the  messenger  boy  brought  the  first  despatch 
to  the  office  of  the  Daily  Planet,  its  chief,  obviously 
nervous  for  the  first  time  in  his  public  life,  received 
the  following  cipher  telegram,  which  cheered  him 
wonderfully :  • 

"  On  the  spot.  Situation  desperate.  Worse  than 
described.  Will  penetrate  to  Russell  or  die.  Dead 

line  still  impassable.     Trust  me. 

"  SWIFT  " 


THE  LOST  CITY.  75 


Iff. 


Swift  boarded  the  Western  express  he 
walked  through,  starting  from  the  last  car,  to  see  if 
any  rival  reporters  happened  to  be  there  for  the  same 
purpose.  He  scanned  the  backs  of  the  heads  of  the 
passengers  first,  and  then  looked  keenly  into  each 
man's  face  as  he  passed.  He  had,  in  common  with 
all  newspaper  men,  the  detective  instinct.  Who 
knew  what  eminent  defaulter  or  renowned  cracksman 
was  fleeing  the  city  in  dark  disguise  ?  However,  he 
observed  no  familiar  or  suspicious  character  until 
he  entered  the  smoking  car. 

He  did  not  go  through,  for,  although  a  great 
smoker,  he  took  no  pleasure  in  indulging  in  his 
favorite  vice  in  the  air  of  a  democratic  smoking  car. 
What  fastidious  smoker  does  ?  He  was  content  to 
let  his  eyes  wander  up  and  down  the  aisle.  He  was 
about  to  turn,  when  his  gaze  fell  upon  the  back  of  a 
dingy  linen  duster,  which  was  surmounted  by  a  large, 
faded,  black  sombrero.  The  man  under  these  gar 
ments  had  the  upper  part  of  his  face  hidden  beneath 


76  THE  LOST  CITY. 

the  broad  flap  of  his  hat,  while  the  under  part  of  his 
face  was  entirely  submerged  in  a  large  pamphlet. 
The  man  had  the  air  of  extreme  retirement.  Some 
thing  about  the  ding-mess  of  the  felt  hat  seemed 
familiar  to  Swift.  But,  no  ;  it  could  not  be.  To 
make  sure,  the  news  editor  of  the  Planet  approached, 
and  bent  behind  the  man.  The  gentleman  was  igno 
rant  of  the  attention  he  attracted,  and  did  not  stir. 
He  seemed  to  be  engrossed  in  one  of  Mr.  Atkinson's 
incomprehensible  financial  reports.  Swift  caught 
sight  of  the  traveller's  face,  started  back  in  amazment, 
and  said : 

"  Excuse  me,  sir :  is  this  seat  engaged  ? "  and 
without  further  ceremony  sat  down  beside  the  re 
condite  stranger,  who  dropped  his  paper  and  stared 
at  Swift  in  return. 

"  Great  Caesar  !  "  blurted  out  Swift.  "  How  the 
D — epartment  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  On  the  five  fifty-eight  elevated,"  replied  the  man, 
imperturbably. 

"  I — I  didn't  know  you  were  sent,  too."  Swift's 
heart  burned  within  him  at  the  fancied  slight. 

"  I  wasn't,"  answered  Mr.  Statis  Ticks,  laconically 
and  wearily. 

"  Where  the  dickens  are  you  going,  then  ?  "  asked 
Swift,  warmly. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  77 

"  To  Russell,  of  course." 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  get  off  ?  " 

*'  I  didn't,  young  man.  I  skipped."  This  excep 
tional  occasion  doubtless  accounted  for  the  only  bit 
of  slang  that  was  ever  heard  to  fall  from  those  dry 
lips.  "  You  see,"  proceeded  Mr.  Ticks  drearily,  "  the 
circumstance  is  a  little  unusual.  I  have  read  of 
nothing  similar  in  the  casualty  reports.  I  thought 
it  best  for  my  reputation  to  make  my  own  personal 
observations  and  figures  on  the  spot." 

"  But  your  position  ?  "  asked  Swift  in  surprise. 

Mr.  Statis  Ticks  raised  his  head  proudly. 

"  If  the  Planet  can  get  on  without  me,  let  it ! " 

"  But  your  family?"  continued  Swift,  somewhat 
dazed.  Who  had  suspected  this  animated  reference 
library  of  such  enterprise  ? 

"  I  sent  messenger  number  thirty-seven  to  them," 
he  answered  with  a  sigh,  as  if  he  were  bored  by  such 
trifles. 

Then  considering  this  topic  exhausted,  Mr.  Ticks 
took  out  his  note-book  and  looked  absently  out  of 
the  window;  now  and  then  he  jotted  down  a  few 
abstruse  figures.  He  was  engrossed  in  calculating 
the  farm  acreage  adjacent  to  the  railroad  track  be 
tween  New  York  and  Albany. 

When  they  drew  nearer  to  the  region  of  the  catas- 


78  THE  LOST  CITY. 

trophe  the  papers  gave  more  lurid  accounts  of  it. 
These  were  purchased  and  read  with  avidity  by 
those  on  board  the  flying  express.  Groups  centred 
in  the  cars  talked  only  of  one  thing.  Reporters 
now  joined  the  train  at  each  prominent  city. 

As  the  train  approached  the  stricken  territory  it 
became  crammed  to  suffocation.  It  crept  at  a  funeral 
pace.  People  fought  at  each  station  for  seats.  The 
train  split  into  sections  on  account  of  the  added  cars, 
filled  with  mourners,  with  rescuers,  with  sight-seers, 
with  villains. 

Swift  now  took  to  himself  a  certain  measure  of 
authority.  Was  he  not  the  experienced  represent 
ative  of  the  greatest  daily  in  America?  But  no 
one  noticed  Mr.  Statis  Ticks,  who  silently  blinked 
at  the  excited  crowds  and  then  jotted  down  his 
estimates  of  them. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  Swift  bounded 
from  the  front  platform  of  the  baggage  car,  the  first 
to  leave  the  train,  and  looked  with  a  professional  eye 
about  him.  The  scene  that  met  his  quick  gase  was 
unprecedented.  Clamoring,  gesticulating,  shriek 
ing,  crjang  men  and  women  were  rushing  here  and 
there  in  frenzy.  Here  was  a  group  of  women  wail 
ing  for  their  husbands,,  imprisoned  or  dead — and 
who  knew  which  ? — within  that  awful  circle.  There 


THE  LOST  CITY.  79 

a  man  looked  vacantly,  with  trembling  lips,  from 
group  to  group,  hunting  for  the  wife  snatched  from 
him.  Here  was  a  rude  fellow  peddling  half  a  bushel 
of  potatoes  from  a  rickety  farm  wagon.  There  a 
woman,  hungry  and  desperate,  was  aimlessly  drag 
ging  an  orphan  child  about.  Yonder  a  confidence 
man  was  set  upon  and  beaten  by  infuriated  victims. 
In  the  midst  of  a  jostling,  eager,  credulous  mob  was 
a  man  who  fancied  he  had  some  real  news  to  tell. 

Now  and  then,  as  if  by  mutual  consent,  these 
people  lifted  up  their  heads  towards  the  Great  Buz 
zard  mountains,  toward  Russell,  the  city  of  their  de 
spair,  and  clenched  their  fists  and  uttered  an  exas 
perated  groan.  Agents  of  the  Red  Cross  Society 
and  of  the  Law  and  Order  League  had  already 
erected  their  tents,  and  were  doing  all  they  could  to 
restrain  the  lawlessness  and  relieve  the  discomforts 
of  the  mob.  Swift  critically  watched  these  seeth 
ing  thousands,  who  had  come  upon  the  spot  from 
motives  of  sorrow,  curiosity,  gain,  and  plunder,  all 
miserable,  poorly  housed  and  scantily  fed.  The  re 
porter's  inquisitiveness  was  well  ahead  of  his  human 
sympathy  up  to  this  point. 

Within  these  few  days  the  border  line  about  the 
afflicted  city  had  become  an  improvised  camp,  that 
extended,  for  miles  and  miles.  It  was  enforced  here 


80  THE  LOST  CITY. 

by  a  railroad  track,  there  by  a  village,  until,  having 
completed  the  gigantic  circle,  it  met  again.  Thou 
sands  were  flowing  in  each  hour.  They  came  from 
all  points  of  the  compass,  like  flocks  of  angels  and 
of  devils.  As  yet  the  military  was  not  at  hand,  and 
the  little  law  that  existed  was  not  of  the  gospel,  but 
of  brute  force  and  adroitness. 

Swift,  having  sent  off  his  dispatch  at  the  impro 
vised  office,  and  having  forgotten  his  companion, 
whom  he  expected  to  be  a  nuisance  on  his  hands,  re 
traced  his  steps  and  hurried  to  the  dead  line,  where 
it  impinged  on  the  railroad  track.  Here  was  the 
centre  of  the  maddest  rush.  Here  men  groaned  and 
cursed  and  wept  aloud.  Swift  pushed  his  way 
through  until  he  reached  that  portion  of  the  track  that 
defied  further  passage.  A  cord  had  been  stretched 
there  to  keep  the  crowds  back.  Upon  showing 
his  badge  he  was  received  with  respect. 

"  Take  keer,  boss,"  said  the  huge  policeman,  whose 
sole  duty  up  to  this  time  had  been  to  drive  the  spikes 
into  the  sleepers.  "  I  tried  it  yesterday.  They  just 
pulled  me  out.  I  got  the  d — d  shakes  yet."  With  a 
grave  smile  Swift  ducked  under  the  rope  and  looked 
before  him.  The  solitary,  motionless,  blasted  prai 
rie  stretched  out,  relieved  only  by  the  outlines  of  the 
Buzzard  mountains .  Where  once  the  tops  of  towers, 


THE  LOST  CITY.  81 

grain  elevators  and  steeples  were  to  be  seen  on  the 
horizon,  there  was  a  cloud.  A  dense,  strange,  omi 
nous  mist  overhung  the  stricken  city. 

This  cloud  was  of  a  yellowish  color  that  recalled 
to  Swift  the  dreadful  yellow  day  of  72.  It  reached 
nearly  to  the  summit  of  the  great  Buzzard  mountain . 
Within  five  miles  of  the  spot  on  which  he  stood  this 
phenomenon  became  more  and  moi'Q  attenuated  un 
til  it  disappeared  in  dull  transparency.  What  did 
that  cloud  contain  ?  What  horrors  did  it  hide  ?  Of 
what  was  its  nature  ?  What  was  the  secret  of  its 
deadly  influence?  No  American  catastrophe  had 
impressed  the  reporter  so  much  as  the  sight  of  this 
veil,  hiding  the  unattainable  city.  Curse  this  male- 
diet,  deadly  vapor  !  It  paralyzed  his  inventiveness. 
It  baffled  his  imagination.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
reportorial  career  Swift  was  stunned  and  without 
resource. 

Now  it  was  said  that  not  a  breath  of  air  had 
stirred  over  the  polluted  area  since  the  morning  of 
the  loss  of  Russell. 

As  the  news  editor  looked  down  the  tracks  he 
saw  that  the  tracks,  which  were  torn  up  and  twisted 
beneath  him, within  a  hundred  feet,  disappeared  ut 
terly  from  view.  The  wooden  ties  were  blackened 
into  charcoal  in  their  places,  but  the  iron  rails  had 


82  THE  LOST  CITY. 

evaporated.  It  was  the  same  with  the  telegraph 
wires.  At  a  certain  point  they  stopped  and  were 
gone.  The  poles,  tottering  and  scorched  and  bare, 
looked  like  a  procession  of  naked  ghosts,  undressed 
for  livelier  mockery.  Before  him  the  trees,  the 
shrubs,  the  grain,  the  grasses— in  fine,  all  vegeta 
tion  had  been  smitten  unto  death. 

The  face  of  the  earth  was  black  and  crumbling. 
It  looked  as  if  the  roots  of  this  unconscious  vegeta 
ble  life  had  been  suddenly  touched  by  volcanic  fires 
and  had  died  from  the  ground  up.  There  was  not 
a  vestige  of  life  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  Had  a 
fire  swept  the  land  ?  But  no  !  No  smoke  had  been 
hitherto  visible,  unless  this  inexplicable  cloud  were 
smoke.  And  yet,  to  Swift's  practiced  eye,  there 
were  evidences  of  a  violent,  a  sudden,  a  consuming 
heat.  The  men  in  line  behind  Swift  stood  respect 
fully  back  while  he  observed  this  unique  scene.  He 
noticed  a  white  mile-post  close  at  hand.  It  was  in 
scribed,  "Russell,  20  m." 

"  Only  twenty  miles  to  Russell !  and  no  one  there 
yet !  What  a  field  for  the  news  editor  of  the  great 
est  paper  in  the  land !  The  competitors  were  keen. 
The  chances  were  even,  the  honor  great,  and  no 
favors  asked.  As  he  stood  for  a  moment,  lost  in 
thought  over  the  apparent  hopelessness  of  the  under- 


THE  LOST  CITY.  83 

taking,  and  almost  wishing  he  had  not  sent  so  con 
fident  a  telegram  to  his  chief,  he  felt  a  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

"  I  have  found  one,"  said  a  slow  voice. 

"  Have  you  ?  What  ?  "  asked  Swift,  with  careless 
interest.  He  recognized  the  aspirated  tones  of  Mr. 
Ticks. 

"  I  have  calculated  this  thing  over.  There  are 
between  six  and  seven  thousand  on  the  spot. 
Five  hundred  reporters  are  here,  and  more  ex 
pected  by  every  train.  There  is  no  food,  no  bed, 
no  roof  for  us  here.  This  place  has  been  completely 
done  up.  It  is  exhausted.  To  get  facts  we  must 
move  on." 

"  Jove,  you're  right,  old  man  ! " 

Mr.  Ticks  acknowledged  the  compliment  with  a 
slight  motion  of  his  hand. 

"  Yes,  I  have  just  purchased  the  only  team  to  be 
had,  for  four  hundred  dollars." 

Swift  glanced  enviously  at  his  autumnal  colleague, 
who  had  already  outdone  him  in  enterprise. 

"  Cyclones  and  tornadoes  in  this  part  of  the 
country,"  proceeded  Mr.  Ticks  sententiously,  travel 
to  the  northeast.  We  will  go  to  the  north.  If  there 
are  any  remains  they  are  to  be  found  there,"  Mr. 
Ticks  had,  it  would  seem,  embraced  the  tornado 
theory. 


84  THE  LOST  CITY. 

"  We  will  go  immediately  ! "  exclaimed  Swift. 

"  Hold  !  "  cried  the  man  of  figures  quietly,  "  I  wish 
to  test  this  phenomenon.  Wait  for  me  here !  " 

Before  Swift  could  utter  a  protest  or  arrest  his 
colleague's  arm,  the  philosopher  started  up  the  va 
cant  track.  No  one  dared  to  follow  him.  The  crowd 
were  too  much  stunned  at  his  audacity.  Had  they 
not  dragged  a  dozen  adventurers  back  from  the 
same  mad  enterprise  ?  Men  shuddered  before  this 
unknown  fate  that  stretched  out  its  relentless  arms 
so  far  and  no  further.  A  cocked  pistol  would  have 
been  more  comfortable. 

But  Mr.  Ticks  walked  on  slowly,  unconsciously,  as 
if  in  a  revery.  He  put  his  hands  out  as  if  to  feel  the 
air.  He  put  his  tongue  out  as  if  to  taste  it.  He 
had  not  gone  forty  feet  when  he  was  observed  to 
tremble  violently.  Those  on  the  dead  line  united 
with  Swift  in  shrieking  "  Come  back ! "  The  ex 
perimenting  member  of  the  Planet  staff  only  shook 
his  head.  He  was  not  twenty  yards  away  when  he 
stopped  abruptly.  He  put  his  hands  to  his  head 
and  heart,  and  struggled  against  the  unseen  force. 
It  beat  upon  him :  but  he  steadied  his  legs  the  firmer 
and  met  the  shock.  It  smote  at  him,  but  he  wearily 
smiled  in  return.  He  even  made  a  motion  as  if  for 
his  note-book.  But  such  temerity  was  too  much 


THE  LOST  CITY.  85 

for  the  occult  fluid  to  suffer.  It  breathed  upon  him 
and  felled  him  to  the  ground.  As  he  dropped  he 
rested  for  a  moment  spasmodically  upon  one  knee, 
and  peered  into  the  air  as  if  he  were  penetrating 
the  secret  of  this  baleful  agent.  Then  he  fell 
back  insensible. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  the  newspaper  man 
came  to.  Swift  was  bending  over  him. 

"  We  rushed  you  out.  You'll  pull  through  all 
right,  old  man,"  said  his  colleague  cheerily. 

"  Did  you  note  the  symptoms  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ticks 
feebly. 

«  Yes." 

"  Did  you  wire  them  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  hadn't  time.     I " 

"  Then  do  so !  "     He  sank  back  exhausted. 

"But  how  did  you  feel?  How  do  you  feel?" 
asked  Swift  anxiously. 

"  As  mortal  never  felt  before,"  replied  Mr.  Ticks 
solemnly.  With  these  words  upon  his  lips  he  lapsed 
away  again  into  unconsciousness. 

That  evening  at  a  late  hour  Swift  made  his  way 
to  the  four-hundred-dollar  team  under  whose  pro 
tecting  shelter  he  had  ensconced  his  patient  with 
such  poor  comfort  as  was  possible. 

Mr.  Ticks  raised  himself  from  the  cushions  upon 
one  arm. 


86  THE  LOST  CITY. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?  "  he  said  restlessly. 

"  For  what  ?  "  asked  Swift  in  astonishment. 

«  To  start." 

"  Not  to-night  surely?" 

"Yes — immediately.  Harness  up!  We  must  be 
at  the  extreme  north  of  this  unclassified  belt  by  to 
morrow  morning." 


THE  LOST  CITY.  87 


IV. 


EMPIRIA,  the  new  county  seat  of  the  new  county 
Dominion  of  the  new  State  of  Harrison,  was  twenty 
miles  away  to  the  northward  as  the  crow  flies,  and 
at  least  thirty  miles  off  by  road.  The  horse  that 
Mr.  Ticks  had  the  forethought  to  purchase  developed 
an  unaccountable  spavin,  united  with  an  unmistak 
able  case  of  the  heaves  :  when  the  whip  was  applied 
it  furthermore  exhibited  an  innate  tendency  to  back. 
Mr.  Swift  drove  through  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
picking  out  the  road  with  that  genius  for  locality 
which  the  general  and  the  reporter  in  the  field  share 
alike.  Barring  mistakes,  accidents,  or  further  ex 
hibitions  of  depravity  on  the  part  of  the  equine  de 
partment,  they  hoped  to  reach  Empiria  by  dawn. 

Mr.  Ticks  leaned  back  upon  the  jolting  seat  in  un 
broken  silence.  When  his  colleague,  who  drove, 
hazarded  a  question,  the  only  reply  was  a  low  grunt. 
As  sleep  was  out  of  the  question  in  that  wagon,  be- 


*8  THE  LOST  CITY. 

hind  that  horse  and  in  those  roads,  was  it  pain  or 
mighty  thought  or  nebulous  calculation  that  op 
pressed  the  wise  man  of  the  Planet  ?  At  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  Mr.  Statis  Ticks  broke  his 
long  reseroe  with  the  following  remark : 

"  If  it  is,  it  is  a  unique  case.  The  phenomenon  is 
isolated." 

"  I  hope  you  feel  better  now  ?  "  Swift  had  been 
anxious  about  his  colleague,  and  had  interpreted  his 
silence  as  evidence  of  physical  distress.  Mr.  Ticks 
gave  an  invisible  shrug  of  his  shoulders  to  express 
the  contempt  he  felt  for  his  own  anatomy  in  com 
parison  with  the  attainment  of  exact  knowledge. 
Otherwise,  heedless  of  the  interruption,  he  pro 
ceeded  : 

"  It  is  physically  impossible  that  a  low-pressured 
area  could  have  had  its  centre  three  or  four  hundred 
miles  northwest  of  Russell." 

"Indeed?"  replied  Swift,  vaguely  and  un- 
sympathetically. 

"It  must  travel  towards  the  centre  of  the  low 
pressure." 

"Of  course,"  assented  Swift,  as  he  would  to  a 
lunatic.  Evidently  that  inexpressible  shock  had 
been  too  much  for  the  middle-aged  man. 

"  The  Gopher  lake  on  the  north,  and  the  Buzzard 


THE  LOST  CITY.  89 

mountain  on  uhe  south,  prevent  the  isothermal  curve 
from  being  deflected  toward  the  north." 

"Really?"  said  Swift. 

"  It  will  be  deflected  to  the  south,  young  man," 
said  Mr.  Ticks,  severely.  "  The  atmospheric  equili 
brium  can  suffer  no  centripetal  disturbance." 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  "  asked  Swift,  a  little  bored. 

"  There  could  be  no  gyrating  motion  of  the  at 
mosphere.  There  will  be  no  aerial  contest.  There 
could  be  no  colder  stratum  above  the  warmer  layer 
coming  from  another  direction.  Both  would  flow 
from  the  south.  There  could  be  no  inversion  of 
these  conditions.  My  friend,  Russell  has  experienced 
no  tornado  or  cyclone.  And  yet — "  he  added  wist 
fully  and  thoughtfully,  "  and  yet— 

"  Well,  if  there  was  no  tornado,  what  the  deuce 
are  we  going  to  Empiria  for  ? "  demanded  Swift. 
He  forgot  himself,  and  gave  the  four-hundred-dollar 
horse  a  sharp  cut  with  the  whip,  in  consequence  of 
which  the  animal  backed  them  so  nearly  toward  the 
place  from  which  they  started  that  the  journey  to 
Empiria  was  seriously  lengthened.  Mr.  Ticks 
did  not  notice  this  delay. 

"  — And  yet  ?  "  he  mused. 

"What  is  the  matter,  then,  if  it  isn't  wind?" 
asked  Swift,  impatiently,  after  he  had  persuaded  his 
horse  to  defer  the  next  attack  of  backing  for  a  mile 


90  THE  LOST  CITY. 

or  so.     "Is  there  a  new  variety  of  atmospheric  dis 
turbance  V     If  so,  it  might  strike  us  here  !  " 

«  Sir — no  !  This  is  not  a  common  tornado.  As 
to  further  theories,  they  are  not  formulated  as  yet. 
No,  this  quadrant  of  the  State  of  Harrison  was  not 
subjected  to  such  a  violent  disturbance.  I  am  pre 
pared  to  say  that  there  will  be  no  evidences  01  a 
vortex  wind  in  or  near  Empiria."  Mr.  Ticks  relapsed 
into  further  thought,  nor  could  he  be  aroused  until 
the  jaded  horse  brought  the  two  jaded  reporters  into 
the  open  square  of  the  county  seat. 

It  was  early,  about  five  o'clock,  but  still  there 
were  evidences  of  stirring  and  excitement.  Upon 
the  village  common  two  or  three  large  tents  were 
erected,  and  from  out  of  these,  scantily  dressed  men 
and  woman  emerged.  As  these  came  into  the  cool, 
open  air  they  lifted  up  their  faces  to  the  south, 
searching  the  horizon  and  sky  to  see  if  there  was 
anything  new  in  the  smitten  district.  It  was  a 
motion  as  instinctive  as  that  of  the  Mahomedan 
toward  Mecca  when  he  prays.  The  appearance  of 
our  two  strangers  excited  no  notice.  Empiria  was 
on  a  branch  road,  difficult  of  access,  but  people  had 
flocked  in  and  the  village  had  become  a  city. 

After  a  hard  struggle,  in  which  persistent  ingenu 
ity  won,  Swift  obtained  a  little  corn  for  his  horse. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  91 

and  a  promise  of  breakfast  for  himself  and  compan- 
.  ion. 

By  six  the  populace  was  awake,  bustling  with 
feverish  eagerness  and  oppressed  with  dread  and 
suspense.  Swift  questioned  a  hundred,  climbed  to 
the  tops  of  trees,  advanced  upon  the  mysterious 
dead  line,  and  retired  baffled  at  every  step. 

As  he  thought  of  that  vast  enclosure,  that  was 
now  an  unapproachable  cemetery,  his  soul  shuddered 
within  him.  Like  a  thousand  beside  him,  this  man 
of  nerve  was  baffled  and  overcome. 

By  nine  o'clock,  Swift  had  exhausted  the  spot,  and 
was  for  pushing  on  to  the  westward  to  complete  the 
perplexing  circle  if  necessary.  Perhaps  an  entrance 
might  be  forced  elsewhere.  He  was  sitting  in  his 
buggy  with  Mr.  Ticks,  who  was  as  uncommunicative 
as  the  dasher  when  he  looked  for  the  hundredth 
time  towards  the  Buzzard  mountains.  As  he  gazed 
he  saw  turkey  buzzards,  of  which  there  are  thou 
sands  in  that  land,  wheeling  their  spiral  flight  above 
the  afflicted  territory.  Swift  looked  at  them  as  he 
always  did,  wondering  how  they  could  fly  so  long 
without  flapping  their  wings,  when  suddenly  he  cried 
out: 

"  By  Jove  !  I  have  it !  "     This  startled  Mr.  Ticks. 

"What?  Have  you  new  information?  What 
has  occurred  ?  " 


92  THE  LOST  CITY. 

"  No ;  but  I  have  an  idea — the  idea — but  I  don't 
see  how  I  could  put  it  through  without  time.  I 
will  go  to  Russell,  or  over  Russell  in  a  balloon  ! " 

The  light  of  inspiration  and  sympathy  flashed 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  the  thought,"  said  Mr. 
Ticks  gravely.  "  I  think  I  can  procure  you  one  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour." 

Now,  under  no  circumstances  is  a  balloon  an 
easy  thing  to  obtain.  Even  in  a  metropolis  like 
New  York  or  London  it  will  take  the  cleverest  re 
porter  at  least  eighteen  minutes,  if  not  a  few  seconds 
longer,  to  hunt  up  a  suitable  means  of  ascension.  It 
is  not  as  simple  a  matter  as  one  may  suppose, to  "go 
up."  Therefore,  when  Mr.  Ticks,  in  a  matter-of-fact 
voice,  asserted  that  he  would  procure  the  bal 
loon  in  fifteen  minutes,  Swift  fetched  a  long  low 
whistle.  But  not  in  the  least  disconcerted  by  Swift's 
manner,  Mr.  Ticks  slowly  descended  from  the 
vehicle,  and  said : 

"  Just  wait  here  until  I  come  back,  so  that  no  time 
may  be  lost."  He  strode  towards  one  of  the  large 
tents  on  the  common  and  disappeared  within  its  flaps. 
Had  Mr.  Ticks  the  formula  for  inflating  a  canvas 
tent  into  a  balloon  ?  Who  knew  ? 

In  a  few  minutes  the  statistician  returned,  bring- 


THE  LOST  CITY.  93 

ing  with  him  a  tall,  cadaverous  man,  whose  lean 
ness  was  heightened  by  a  long  chin  beard,  which 
descended  upon  his  chest  to  the  middle  button  of 
his  coat.  Having  a  beard  of  this  description,  the 
gentleman  had  no  need  of  a  necktie,  and  having  no 
necktie,  he,  of  course,  dispensed  with  a  collar. 

"  Professor  Ariel,  my  friend  Mr.  Swift,  who  wishes 
to  talk  business."  Mr.  Ticks  performed  the  intro 
duction  in  his  blandest  manner.  The  man  who 
seemed  to  see  nothing  had  seen  everything.  It  had 
taken  the  unpractical,  the  scholar,  the  dreamer,  the 
muser,  to  observe  the  broken  remnants  of  a  county 
fair,  and  the  advertisement  of  that  aeronautic  ex 
pedition,  conducted  by  the  renowned  Professor  Ariel, 
who  was  to  have  made  an  ascension  at  twelve  o'clock 
that  awful  day,  taking  with  him  a  couple  to  be  mar 
ried  in  the  seventh  heavens  and  a  Seventh-Day  Bap 
tist  clergyman  to  tie  the  knot.  It  was  at  ten  in  the 
morning  that  Russell  was  closed  in,  and  the  balloon 
and  the  professor  had  been  ignominiously  forgotten. 

"  Where  is  your  balloon,  professor  ?  "  asked  Swift, 
when  he  had  learned  these  preliminary  de 
tails. 

"  Darn  it  all,  in  that  barn  there !  "  The  professor 
spoke  as  if  he  had  a  personal  grievance  against  the 
bam, 


94  THE  LOST  CITY. 

"  Are — were  they  to  have  paid  you  for  your  as 
cension  ?  " 

"  Five  hundred  dollars,  and  I  hain't  seen  a  red, 
and  I  can't  get  out  of  this  infernal  place." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  in  good  condition  ?  "  inquired  the 
editor. 

"  You  bet !  It's  new.  Never  been  used.  Cost 
twenty-five  hundred  dollars.  Cash !  " 

"  How  long  would  it  take  you  to  get  her  ready  ?  " 

"  Three  hours'  pushing  would  do  it,  I  suppose." 

"  We  want  to  go  up  in  that  balloon,  Professor  Ariel," 
said  Swift,  after  deliberation.  Mr.  Ticks  confirmed 
this  demand  with  an  affirmative  gesture  of  his  sad 
head. 

"  Can't  be  done,  sir.  I  wouldn't  risk  her  in  this 
crowd!" 

The  professor  spoke  decisively. 

"  Do  you  know  who  we  are  ?  " 

The  professor  shook  his  head. 

"  We  are  here  representing  the  Daily  Planet,  and 
it  will  be  the  biggest  advertisement  you  ever  had." 

The  professor  still  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  If  you  were  the  President  and  all  his  angels  I 
wouldn't  risk  it.  A  counter- current  might  carry  us 
over  that  cussed  spot,  and  we'd  all  be  stiff  before  you 
could  say  Jinks." 


THE  LOST  CITY.  95 

Nothing  daunted,  Swift  took  the  aeronaut  by  the 
arm,  offered  him  a  cigar,  and  pointed  towards  the 
Buzzard  mountains. 

"  That's  just  where  we  want  to  go.  D'ye  see  those 
birds  up  there?  If  they  can  stand  it  we  can.  This 
deadly  what-you-call-it  doesn't  reach  as  high  as 
that." 

The  professor  stared  and  then  muttered  to  him 
self: 

u  Gee— mima !     The  feller's  hit  it  right." 

"  Now,  look  here,  professor !  You're  a  famous 
man.  Everybody  knows  you.  The  Planet  charters 
your  balloon  for  five  hundred  dollars.  Is  it  a  go?" 

The  professor's  eyes  glittered  yellow,  the  color  of 
greed. 

"  1  couldn't  think  of  it.  I  couldn't  risk  the  danger. 
It's  an  unknown  country,  now — no,  I  couldn't." 

"  Call  it  six  hundred." 

"  Impos-sible ! " 

"  Seven ! " 

"  That  wouldn't  pay  me  if  she  breaks." 

"  Eight  hundred  dollars !  " 

"Couldn't  do  it." 

"  Nine  hundred  dollars.     I'm  tired." 

"  Subtract  eight  and  add  a  cipher,  and  I'm  your 
man." 

"Very  well!  Mr.  Ticks  is  witness.     I  will  give 


96  THE  LOST  CITY. 

you  five  hundred  when  we  leave  the  ground,  and 
the  balance  when  we  touch  it  again." 

«  Done ! " 

The  two  men  shook  hands  over  their  bargain. 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Swift,  glancing  at  his  watch, 
"  it  is  ten  o'clock.  We  will  ascend  at  one." 

"  I  will  assist  the  professor  in  preparing  his  air 
ship,"  said  Mr.  Ticks.  "  By  the  way,  how  tall  is  your 
balloon,  professor  ?  What  is  her  cognomen  ?  " 

"  I  call  her  High  Tariff,  mister.  That's  her  name. 
You'll  see  it  on  her.  Wait  till  she  gets  her  forty 
thousand  cubic  feet  of  gas  in  her,  and  you'll  see 
her  height." 

By  twelve  o'clock  the  multitude  had  got  wind  of 
the  undertaking,  and  were  thronging  towards  the 
fenced  enclosure,  where  the  huge  monster  was  flap 
ping  with  that  inane  motion  that  only  a  half-filled 
balloon  can  take  to  itself.  Rumors  of  the  wildest 
description  were  afloat.  By  half-past  twelve  the  bal 
loon  was,  to  all  appearance,  full,  and  sandbags  were 
being  put  aboard.  By  one  the  crowd  could  hardly 
be  kept  back  by  self-sworn  marshals,  and  the  balloon 
tugged  at  its  warps  as  if  it  would  burst  its  bonds  at 
the  slightest  provocation. 

The  High  Tariff  now  awakened  the  utmost  en 
thusiasm.  Men  came  by  tens  and  hundreds  to  make 
offers  for  the  risky  trip. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  97 

"Blank  it  all,  she's  chartered,  i\\QlIigJi  Tarifis" 
was  the  aeronaut's  invariable  reply.  "  She  don't 
belong  to  me  this  trip.  Ask  the  owners." 

At  ten  minutes  after  one  precisely  Swift  appeared 
upon  the  ground.  He  had  just  sent  off  the  following 
message  to  his  paper : 

"  /Start  immediately  for  Russell  by  thousand  dollar 
balloon" 

He  had  sold  his  horse  and  team  and  had  purchased 
provisions  with  the  proceeds.  Five  minutes  after 
the  sale  the  horse  backed  into  the  hotel  and  smashed 
the  buggy  into  Chinese  joss-sticks. 

Swift  walked  calmly  to  the  car  and  ordered  the 
provisions  aboard. 

"Have  you  a  long  ladder  and  grapnel?"  hern- 
quired. 

"  Two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  each." 

"  Anchor  ?  " 

"  Two  hundred  pounds." 

"Are  you  ready,  professor?"   asked  Swift,  satis 
fied  with  his  inspection. 

"  She's  full  to  bustin' ! "  said  the  professor,  look 
ing  uneasily  at  the  straining  cable. 

"  Jump  in,  Mr.  Ticks  !  "  The  crowd  was  almost 
beside  itself  at  the  boldness  of  the  undertaking. 
Men  yelled  and  hooted  encouragement  as  the  vener 
able  and  musty  editor  stepped  into  the  car  with  a 


98  TIIE  LOST  CITY. 

natural  air.  It  took  more  than  this  to  embarrass 
Mr.  Ticks. 

"  Now,  professor ! "  As  Swift  spoke  he  handed 
the  professor  a  draft  on  the  Planet  for  five  hundred 
dollars.  The  professor  hesitated  no  longer.  He 
snatched  the  check  and  bounded  in.  An  assistant 
stood  ready  with  an  axe  to  cut  the  ropes  that  held 
the  impatient  balloon.  Swift  then  stepped  in  lei 
surely.  It  was  just  twenty-nine  minutes  and  a 
quarter  past  one  o'clock.  The  crowd  shrieked  as  if 
their  throats  would  burst.  Swift  lifted  his  hat  in 
acknowledgment. 

"Good  luck!" 

"  Never  say  die  ! " 

"  Come  back  and  tell  us  all  about  it." 

"  If  you  see  my  husband  tell  him  I'm  waiting  for 
him." 

They  cheered  and  yelled  and  cried  and  cheered 
again. 

"  Are  you  ready  ? "  asked  Swift,  looking  at  his 
companions. 

"  Then  let  her  go !  " 

A  cut,  a  swirl,  an  indescribable  motion,  and 
shouts  became  to  those  in  the  High  Tariff  whispers, 
men  became  ants,  and  they  were  gone. 


THE  LOST  CITY.^  99 


V. 


"  LOOK  !     For  God's  sake,  look !     What  is  it  ?  " 

Swift  strained  his  eyes  to  the  southward,  toward 
the  death-bound  territory.  The  malignant  cloud 
that  settled  over  plain  and  mountain  slope  was 
broken  on  the  Gopher  lake.  As  soon  as  Swift  had 
recovered  from  the  first  bound  of  the  balloon  he 
had  scanned  the  dark  mist,  and  by  the  borders  of 
the  lake  he  had  found  a  rift.  This  rift  indicated 
the  spot  where  the  city  of  Russell  should  have 
been.  As  he  spoke  he  clutched  the  arm  of  his  col 
league,  and  pointed  over  the  side  of  the  rising  car. 

"  I — I'm  afraid  I  can't  see  what  you  mean,"  stam 
mered  Mr.  Statis  Ticks,  "  my  glasses  are  blurred." 

The  man  of  figures  was  really  agitated.  But 
Professor  Ariel,  like  many  an  adventurer,  had  more 
than  his  share  of  what  one  may  politely  call  sang 
froid,  but  what  is  known  in  common  North  Amer 
ican  as  simple  "  cheek."  Besides,  in  some  sections  of 
the  country,  he  might  have  been  called  a  profane 
man.  With  his  hands  on  the  safety  valve,  he  looked 
and  then  ejaculated : 


100  THE  LOST  CITY. 

«By-  — .     It's  gone!" 

"  I  see  nothing — nothing  but  black  streaks,"  said 
the  elder  member  of  the  Planet  corps  hurriedly. 
"  Can't  we  stop,  professor  ?  Perhaps  that  isn't  the 
site  of  the  unfortunate  city !  " 

The  professor,  obedient  to  the  suggestion,  pulled 
the  safety  valve,  and  the  gas  rushed  out  with  a 
wheeze. 

"  You  bet  it  is  !  That's  the  place  !  Didn't  I  land 
there  before  I  struck  Empiria  ?  Darned  lucky  for 
me  they  didn't  take  stock  in  the  High  Tariff.  I 
might  have  been — God  knows  what,  now !  " 

Even  as  the  three  men  looked,  the  cloud  closed  in 
upon  the  land.  Strangely  enough,  it  shunned  the 
surface  of  the  water.  The  travellers  cast  their  eyes 
upon  the  sullen  bosom  of  the  Gopher  lake.  This 
body  of  water  glittered  like  the  scales  of  a  leaden 
serpent.  It  looked  from  that  great  height  poisonous 
and  discontented.  Swift  gazed  upon  it  intently. 

"  Why  ?  Wouldn't  they  have  you  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Ticks,  absent-mindedly  of  the  professor.  "  See ! 
Haven't  we  struck  another  current  ?  " 

As  he  spoke  the  huge  High  Traiff  swayed.  A 
breath  of  chilly  air  smote  them.  Then  gently  the 
balloon  swung  toward  the  Gopher  lake — toward 
the  fateful  city. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  101 

"  Well,  you  see,  the  balloon  was  too  old-fashioned 
for  them,"  answered  the  professor,  still  bent  upon 
his  grievance.  "  Now,  if  it  had  gone  by  electricity 
that  'ud  been  another  thing." 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ticks,  with  polite  interest. 

"  Well !  Everything  in  that  gol-darned  town  went 
by  electricity.  They  had  electric  cars,  electric  lights, 
electric  shampooing,  electric  cigars,  electric  sewing 
machines,  electric  elevators,  electric  table  service  in 
the  hotel ;  worst  was,  they  had  electric  cabs.  They 
kept  quiet  about  some  of  their  notions.  Folks  did 
say  they  had  their  reasons.  I  didn't  hear  nothing 
about  all  this  electric  tomfoolery  till  I  struck  the 
city." 

"  Ah ! "  interrupted  Mr.  Ticks,  pricking  up  his 
ears.  "I  have  heard  about  those  cabs,  but  I  have 
had  no  reliable  information  that  they  were  a  success." 

"  They  ain't ! "  answered  the  professor,  rubbing 
his  right  arm  with  a  wince  of  memory.  "  Like  a 
darn  jack  I  took  one  for  a  spin.  They  go  on  three 
wheels  ;  one  in  front,  two  behind.  The  driver,  he  sits 
in  front  and  steers  the  shebang  with  the  forward 
wheel.  I  hadn't  gone  two  blocks  when  I  leaned  out 
of  the  window  and  the  current  struck  me  in  the  arm 
like  a  shot.  You  bet  I  yelled  bloody  murder  and 
got  out  of  that  trap  in  two  shakes  of  a  colt's  tail." 


102  THE  LOST  CITY. 

"  How  does  all  that  electrical  system  work  other 
wise  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ticks  slowly,  after  some  thought. 

"  Everybody  perfectly  wild  over  it.  They  won't 
allow  a  horse  in  town,  nor  even  a  ton  of  coal.  Elec 
tricity  is  the  big  thing  of  the  future.  They  fight 
electrical  duels.  Feller  that  stands  the  greatest 
number  of  alternating  volts  gets  the  apology. 
I  saw  a  dog-fight  in  the  street  stopped  by  the 
Humane  Society.  A  man  would  drop  a  wet 
sponge  on  the  dog's  head,  another  on  his  back, 
and  turn  on  the  circuit.  They  generally  both 
dropped  and  never  knew  what  struck  'em.  Two 
dead  dogs  better  than  one  fight.  But  they  kept  it 
all  dark  enough.  These  were  jest  experiments,  they 
said.  When  they  were  done  that  they  were  going 
to  have  an  electrical  exhibition  and  invite  the  hull 
world.  Why,  I  heard  they  were  fool  enough  to  put 
in  a  bill  in  the  Legislature  to  have  the  name  of  Rus 
sell  changed  to  Electra.  As  if  Russell  wasn't  good 
enough  for  them  ! " 

Mr.  Ticks  mused  over  these  facts.  Why  was  it 
that  his  acquisitive  mind  had  not  roamed  over  this 
field  before?  Perhaps  because  it  was  acquisitive, 
not  imaginative.  lie  could  only  account  for  the  un 
pardonable  omission  on  the  ground  that  there  were 
so  many  new  competing  Western  cities,  each  with  its 
peculiar  advantages  :  and  that  there  were  so  many 


THE  LOST  CITY.  103 

strange  electrical  inventions  new  each  day,  that  he 
had  overlooked  Russell  and  its  progressive  hobby. 
Besides,  was  he  not  on  the  staff  of  a  Democratic 
paper,  which  would,  perhaps,  on  the  whole,  prefer  to 
ignore  the  new  Republican  State  and  its  nourishing 

capital. 

"  How  was  all  this  power  produced  if  coal  was 
excluded  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ticks. 

"  Oh,  windmills  did  that.  A  half  a  dozen  huge 
windmills,  with  wings,  each  as  big  as  the  High 
Tarif^  were  the  first  things  you  saw.  They  were 
nearly  three  hundred  feet  high— 

"  Good  Heavens  !  Look,  man !  Look  down  there ! 
Don't  you  see  something  in  the  middle  of  the  lake !  " 
Swift  pulled  the  professor  over  to  his  side  of  the 
car,  and  pointed  directly  below  the  balloon. 

They  had  now  struck  a  dead  calm  and  the  High 
Tariff  floated  motionless  two  thousand  feet  above  the 
lake.  Directly  below  them  was  something  resting 
upon  the  waters.  It  looked  fixed  and  dead.  A  log? 
A  wreck  ?  A  raft  ?  Slowly  the  outline  took  to  itself 
the  form  of  a  boat. 

"  Have  you  a  pair  of  glasses  here  ?  "  asked  Swift, 
all  of  a  quiver. 

The  professor  shoved  one  of  Steward's  field- 
glasses  in  his  hand. 


104  THE  LOST  CITY. 

«  There's  a  body  in  that  boat !  "  cried  Swift,  after 
a  prolonged  examination.  "  No— Great  God !  It's 
alive!  It  moves  !  It's  a  woman!" 

The  professor  took  a  long  look. 

"  I  guess  you're  right.     She's  a  female ! " 

"  But  she  must  be  saved,"  insisted  Swift.  "  We 
must  save  her." 

«  Yes,  Professor  Ariel,"  said  Mr.  Statis  Ticks,  sen- 
tentiously  and  with  trembling  dignity ;  "  being  a 
woman,  she  demands  our  attention,  and,  besides,  as  a 
survivor  she  can  give  us  the  information  and  suggest 
the  figures  we  need." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  gentlemen,"  said  the  professor, 
shaking,  his  head,  "  but  it's  mighty  ticklish  busi 
ness.  Supposing  we  drift  into  the  deadly  air.  I 
don't  know  what  that  vapor  means,  but  it  evidently 
means  the  'Sweet  By  and  By.'  Even  the  Hujh 
Tariff  wouldn't  save  us  then  ! " 

"  Look  here,  professor,"  jerked  out  Swift,  per 
emptorily,  "  it's  got  to  be  done.  Now  dry  up !  " 

"  All  right,  it's  a  go.     I  can  stand  it  if  you  can." 

So  the  valve  was  opened  cautiously,  and  the  bal 
loon  with  majestic  slowness,  obedient  to  its  master's 
hand,  descended  toward  the  Great  Gopher  lake,  and 
hovered  over  the  cockle-shell  upon  its  malignant 
bosom. 


THE  LOST  CITY  105 

As  the  High  Tariff  approached  the  little  boat,  Mr. 
Ticks  looked  at  it  eagerly. 

"  She's  alive  and  unmarried,"  said  the  oracle, 
slowly. 

"  Why  unmarried  ?  "  asked  Swift,  with  a  vague 
nutter  of  the  heart.  He  had  watched  the  figure  of 
the  woman  attentively  with  the  spyglass.  It  was 
rounded  and  supple.  Masses  of  dark -brown  hair 
hid  her  shoulders  and  face. 

"Because,"  answered  Mr.  Ticks,  "she  is  under 
eighteen.  The  statistics  of  this  section  of  the  West 
show  that  no  female  over  eighteen  years  of  age 
remains  single." 

The  balloon  had  now  descended  to  within  three 
hundred  feet  of  the  boat.  The  girl  in  it  did  not 
stir.  She  lay  with  her  head  propped  in  the  bow,  so 
stiffly  and  so  still  that  to  all  appearance  she  was  a 
dead  woman.  But  the  three  men  agreed  they  had 
seen  her  move.  Had  her  rescuers  arrived  too 
late? 

"  Let  down  the  ladder !  "  cried  Swift.  «  I'll  go 
down  and  pick  her  up ! "  Ignorant  how  hard  it  is 
even  for  an  experienced  hand  to  climb  up  and  down 
a  rope  ladder  swinging  in  space,  he  clambered  over 
the  side  of  the  car. 

"  Hold,  young  fellow !  "  Professor   Ariel    spoke 


106  THE  LOST  CHY. 

sharply.  By  this  time  they  were  within  two  hundred 
feet  of  the  water. 

"  Hold,  I  say ! "  yelled  the  professor  in  a  rage, 
letting  go  the  rope  to  the  safety-valve  and  at  the 
same  time,  grabbling  a  sand-bag.  "  If  you  stir  out 
of  this  ear  I'll  pitch  ballast  out  and  you'll  never  see 
your  gal  again  !  " 

Swift  stopped  short.  The  rope-ladder  swayed 
like  a  double  snake  beneath  them.  It's  end  was 
fifty  feet  above  the  boat,  but,  O  horrors !  It  was 
also  nearly  fifty  feet  to  one  side  of  the  boat — no  hu 
man  power  could  reach  the  lady  from  the  ladder. 
A  breath  might  blow  the  High  Tariff  even  farther 
away. 

At  the  same  time  the  girl,  doubtless  aroused  from 
her  stupor  by  the  professor's  loud  call,  opened  her 
eyes  slowly.  Above  her  loomed  a  gigantic  mon 
ster.  Was  it  a  dream  ?  Was  this  apparition  a  final 
terror  added  to  her  awful  experience,  sent  to  crush 
out  the  last  remnant  of  her  buoyant  life  and  mag 
nificent  courage  ?  She  stared  at  the  thing  above  her  ; 
then  opened  her  mouth  and  gave  a  scream,  such  as 
can  only  be  the  result  of  full  Western  tracheal  de 
velopment. 

"  Oh !  don't  be  frightened  ! "  cried  Swift  quickly., 
"  Don't !  We've  come  to  save  you  !  "  He  could 


THE  LOST  CITY.  107 

not  think  of  anything  more  to  say  ;  and  it  occurred 
to  him  that  he  was  a  donkey  to  say  anything. 

But  the  professor,  who  had  few  delicate  scru 
ples,  waved  his  hat  and  shouted: 

«  What's  the  matter  with  the  Ilicjli  Tariff?  She's 
all  right!" 

This  yell,  so  frequently  heard  on  Eastern  land 
and  sea,  had  penetrated  even  to  the  Great  Gopher 
lake,  and  it  reassured  the  girl  more  than  anything 
else  could  have  done. 

She  sat  up  weakly  enough  in  the  boat,  and,  after 
waving  her  hand,  with  feminine  instinct  tried  to 
coil  her  hair  and  otherwise  prepare  herself  as  best 
she  could  to  receive  these  angels  from  the  clouds. 

"  Can  you  catch  ?  "  yelled  the  professor. 

"  Try  me ! "  came  back  a  voice  undaunted,  though 
enfeebled  by  long  suffering. 

The  professor  coiled  a  stout,  light  rope  on  his 
arm,  shot  out  a  few  thundering  orders  about  safety- 
valves  and  ballast,  and  cautiously,  but  with  gymnas 
tic  quickness,  descended  the  yielding  rounds  of  the 
long  ladder. 

To  the  lady  in  the  boat,  to  the  passengers  in  the 
car  it  seemed  hours  before  the  professor  readied  the 
last  of  the  two  hundred  rounds.  It  might  have  been 
forty  seconds. 


108  THE  LOST  CITY. 

Swift  called  out  to  the  young  lady  encour 
agingly  : 

"Hold  out  a  little  while  longer  and  you'll  be 
safe !  " 

"  I'm  all  right  now,  since  you  have  come."  The 
young  woman's  trembling  voice  seemed  to  lay  an 
actual  emphasis  011  "you"  that  Swift  was  selfish 
enough  to  take  to  himself. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  there  ?  " 

"  Five  days.     I  am  nearly  dead !  " 

"  Poor,  poor  thing !  "  said  Swift  to  himself.  Tears 
of  sympathy  came  into  his  eyes.  Even  Mr.  Ticks 
blinked. 

"  She's  office  editor  0:1  some  Russell  daily,"  said 
Mr.  Ticks  after  another  long  look  through  the  field 
glasses. 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  asked  Swift  in  dis 
pleasure. 

"  She's  got  a  stylograph  behind  her  right  ear  and 
a  yellow  pad  in  her  lap;  besides,  there  are  some 
clippings  at  the  bottom  of  the  boat." 

By  this  time  Professor  Ariel  had  reached  the 
lower  end  of  his  ladder. 

"  Now,  catch !  "  he  cried,  hurling  the  light  rope 
with  sure  skill.  It  whistled  through  the  air  and  the 
end  fell  across  the  boat. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  109 

"  Make  fast  to  something,  quick,  now  !  " 

As  he  spoke  he  felt  a  breath  of  air  upon  his  face. 
The  balloon  careened  over  slightly  and  righted  itself. 
The  Illfjli  Tariff  \f%&  slowly  settling  to  the  water's 
surface.  As  quickly  as  he  could  the  professor  pulled 
the  boat  toward  him. 

"  You  can't.  It's  anchored,"  cried  the  girl.  She 
tugged  at  the  rope  with  the  last  strength  of  hope, 
and  actually  brought  it  up.  The  skiff  yielded  to  the 
professor's  clutch.  By  this  time  the  balloon  was  so 
low  down  that  the  aeronaut's  feet  were  nearly  in  the 
water. 

"Throw  out  sand  by  the  handful!"  he  ordered. 

This  gentle  lighting  kept  her  at  the  right  elevation. 

' 
Now  the  professor  touched  the  boat.     He  jumped 

in.  "  Don't  talk  !  "  he  cried,  "  hold  out  your  arms 
instead !  "  He  knotted  the  rope  underneath  her 
arms  and  tied  the  other  end  firmly  to  the  ladder. 

"  We've  got  to  hurry.  Xow,  Miss !  you  keep 
cool,  and  we'll  save  you  all  right."  It  was  a  des 
perate  chance. 

"  Now  let  go  a  couple  of  sandbags ! "  the  order 
came  up  to  Swift  in  the  car. 

Mr.  Statis  Ticks,  with  his  hand  upon  the  safety- 
valve,  and  hearing  the  order,  became,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  confused.  He  pulled  the  safety-valve 


THE  LOST  CITY. 

wide  open,  and  the  gas  rushed  furiously  out.  Even 
with  the  two  sandbags  overboard  and  lightened 
of  fifty  pounds  dead  weight,  the  balloon  descended 
suddenly. 

The  professor  saw  the  mistake  at  a  glance.  lie 
yelled  furiously : 

"  Good  God !     Close  that  valve  or  we're  lost !  " 

But  the  mischief  was  already  done. 

"  Heave  it  all  out !  "  shrieked  the  professor,  climb 
ing  up  the  ladder  like  a  cat.  The  car  of  the  balloon 
grazed  the  side  of  the  boat.  Mr.  Statis  Ticks,  in 
such  atonement  as  he  could  make  for  his  awful  error, 
reached  over  his  thin  arms.  The  girl  arose,  totter 
ing  to  her  feet,  and,  with  a  mighty  effort,  the  gray, 
gaunt  man  lifted  the  heavy  girl  into  the  car.  That 
was  the  most  humane,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the 
maddest  thing  he  could  have  done.  Under  the  in 
fluence  of  the  added  weight  the  car  struck  the  boat, 
overturned  it,  and  then  dragged  in  the  water. 

"  Out  with  everything  !  "  howled  the  professor. 

The  three  looked  around  in  despair.  The  girl  had 
dropped  limp  upon  the  floor,  and  the  water  was  upon 
her.  Above  them  was  a  cloud  of  the  darkness  of 
night.  Cirrhus  clouds  scudded  here  and  there  in 
confusion.  There  was  strange  atmospheric  howling 
in  the  distance,  approaching  nearer  and  nearer. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  Ill 

The  water  assumed  that  angry  hue  it  takes  to  itself 
before  a  desperate  storm.  The  monstrous  balloon 
writhed  intelligently  above  them.  All  the  sandbags 
were  now  pitched  out.  The  High  Tariff  shook 
itself  loose  from  the  water.  It  rose.  It  fell.  It 
rose  again. 

"Are  we  safe?"  cried  Swift,  looking  anxiously 
at  the  girl. 

« Take  off  your  coat  and  vest  and  shoes,  every 
thing,  and  chuck  'em  over  like  lightning,  and  we'll 
see,"  answered  the  professor,  solemnly. 


112  THE  LOST  CITY. 


VI. 

WITH  wild  energy  the  men  threw  out  of  the  car 
everything  that  had  a  semblance  of  weight.  Aero 
nauts  well  know  the  difference  that  a  few  ounces 
make  to  safety  when  the  gas  has  been  exhausted 
from  their  balloon.  Professor  Ariel  had  cast  every 
thing  overboard  with  maniacal  celerity,  and  now, 
clad  only  in  his  undershirt  and  trousers,  was  hack 
ing  at  the  trailing  ladder  to  cut  that  off.  The  bal 
loon  had  risen  some  fifty  or  a  hundred  feet.  It  now 
halted  irresolute.  Could  it  recover  itself  and  mount  ? 
or  would  it  lose  courage  and  fall,  dragging  its  pas 
sengers  to  a  certain  death  ? 

But  far  more  fearful  than  the  latter  imminent 
danger  was  the  sight  of  the  threatening  sky.  Not 
one  of  these  imperilled  people  had  ever  seen  such 
whirling  masses  of  mad,  black,-  revengful  clouds. 
These  centred  from  all  sides  upon  the  site  of  the 
lost  city.  They  rushed  together  and  formed  eddies 
and  funnels.  They  roared  like  live  things.  It  was 
in  one  of  these  smaller  whirlwinds  that  the  balloon 
was  caught. 

The  massive  folds  of  silk  beat  and  writhed  and 


THE  LOST  CITY.  113 

tried  to  tear  themselves  loose  from  the  clutches  of 

the  elements.     The  four  in  the  car  clung  to  it  with 

i 

terror,  watching  the  mad-cap  play  of  the  wind. 

"  It's  no  use — I  can't !  "  cried  the  professor  with 
damp,  white  face,  throwing  down  his  knife.  "  The 
wire  is  too  strong.  We  must  get  to  the  rigging,  cut 
off  the  car,  and  God  help  us !  " 

The  situation  was  indeed  appalling.  The  ladder, 
for  purposes  of  greater  stability,  was  made  of  wire 
woven  over  with  manila.  The  sharp  knife  could 
not  cut  that  useless  weight. 

In  this  crisis  the  young  lady  recovered  her  equi 
poise.  She  began  to  take  off  her  shoes. 

"  It  will  help  a  little,"  she  said.  Then  she  began 
shyly  to  loose  her  over  skirt.  But  the  whirlwind 
caught  the  car  and  nearly  upset  it.  It  swirled  and 
almost  touched  the  ground. 

"  Up  ! "  cried  the  professor.  He  caught  the  girl 
and  tied  her  in  dexterously.  Every  man  held  him 
self  in  the  ropes  that  bound  the  car  to  the  balloon 
as  best  he  might.  It  was  a  fearful  chance.  The 
professor  cut  a  rope  and  made  bowline  chairs.  Each 
sat  in  his  noose  and  held  on  for  dear  life.  The  pro 
fessor,  who  never  lost  his  coolness,  worked  as  if  he 
had  done  this  before.  And  indeed  he  had. 

Swift  had  the  presence  of  mind  or  the  presence  ol 
8 


THE  LOST  CITY. 

heart  to   support   the  young  lady  in  this  perilous 
moment. 

Cut !  cut !  The  car  had  been  caught  in  a  counter 
eddy,  and  was  five  hundred  feet  or  so  in  the  air,  but 
rapidly  descending.  Then  the  last  strand  parted. 
Relieved  of  several  hundred-weight,  the  balloon 
bounded  up.  It  was  buffeted  and  whirled  and  tossed 
from  cloud  to  cloud.  The  maddened  elements 
clutched  at  it.  Balls  of  fire  danced  upon  the  ground 
beneath,  and  darted  here  and  there  from  cloud  to 
cloud.  As  the  professor  gave  the  last  cut  and  the 
balloon  soared  aloft,  there  was  a  report  as  if  a  thou 
sand  rounds  of  artillery  were  concentrated  in  one 
shot.  There  was  a  dazzling  streak  of  light.  It 
smote  the  adventurers  blind.  It  smote  them  deaf. 
It  stunned  them  into  insensibility.  Like  limp 
corpses  the  four  sat  as  they  were  whirled  on  high, 
each  clasping  his  arms  instinctively  about  the  rope 
that  held  him. 

It  seemed  as  if  death  had  overtaken  them  all  and 
petrified  them  with  its  touch. 

"  I  have  solved  the  problem."  Mr.  Ticks  opened 
his  eyes  and  gasped.  "  By  my  faith,  where  are  we  ? " 

Far  below  were  opaque  blackness,  storm  and 
wind.  Above,  the  blue,  infinite  ether.  The  sun 
shone  brilliantly.  It  warmed  the  balloon.  It  ex- 


THE  LOST  CITY. 

paneled  the  gas.  The  High  Tar (f  kept  rising1.  The 
stillness  was  a  miracle.  Beneath  stretched  the 
panorama  of  a  stricken  country.  The  highest  peaks 
of  the  Buzzard  mountains  were  below  the  balloon. 
The  storm  raged  over  the  lake  and  the  lost  city  like 
a  mock  storm,  it  was  so  distant  and  so  unimportant. 
Xow  and  then  there  was  a  flash  of  yellow  light  and 
a  distant  reverberation.  The  storm  was  fearful,  but 
it  was  only  a  small  blot  upon  a  fair  landscape  when 
viewed  from  such  a  height. 

"  Yes,"  mused  Mr.  Ticks  aloud,  pulling  his  ener 
gies  together.  "  I  know  now  what  it  all  means.  I 
know  the  secret  of  Russell's  unparalleled  disaster." 

As  he  spoke  he  reached  out  and  shook  the  pro 
fessor,  then  Swift ;  then  he  touched  the  young  lady 
with  gentle  deference.  The  three  opened  their 
eyes,  one  after  another. 

"  We're  saved !  Oh,  what  luck  !  We're  saved !  " 
cried  Professor  Ariel.  Tears  of  joy  started  from  his 
eyes.  "  Say,  mister,"  his  devil-may-care  manner  re 
turning  to  him  in  the  fulness  of  his  ecstasy.  «  Say," 
punching  Swift,  "  you  ain't  got  a  chaw  about  you, 
have  you?" 

But  Swift,  lifting  up  his  bewildered  eyes,  took  in 
the  glorious  blue  sky  and  sun,  then  his  gaze  fell 
upon  the  horror  from  which  they  had  escaped, 


116  THE  LOST  CITY. 

Mechanically  he  searched  the  pockets  of  his  trousers. 
Out  of  his  pistol  pocket  he  pulled  a  flask  of  brandy 
— all  that  survived  to  him  of  his  outfit  for  this 
ghastly  journey.  This  he  had  forgotten,  otherwise 
it  would  have  gone  by  the  rail  along  with  his  pocket- 
book,  to  lighten  the  car. 

"Not  yet,"  he  said,  pushing  aside  the  professor's 
longing  hand,  "  the  lady  first !  " 

The  brandy,  the  warm  sun  and  the  prospect  of 
safety  roused  the  girl  considerably.  Possibly 
Swift's  supporting  arm  hastened  her  recuperation. 

Swift  passed  the  bottle  to  Mr.  Ticks,  who  drank, 
and  coughed,  and  drank  again. 

"It's  St.  Croix,  vintage  of  forty-two,"  said  Mr. 
Ticks,  gratefully.  The  professor  got  what  he  could. 
But  Swift  would  not  touch  any.  He  was  experienc 
ing  a  finer  intoxication.  His  eyes  met  those  of  the 
girl,  who  had  been  the  unconscious  cause  of  all  their 
danger.  She  seemed  to  perceive  this,  for  she  soon 
broke  the  profound  silence  by  suggesting  with  a 
blush  : 

"  You  needn't  hold  me  so  tight,  sir.  I'll  try  not 
to  fall." 

"  Can  you  talk  now  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ticks  of  their 
lady  companion. 

This  question  deflected  a  possible  embarrassment, 


THE  LOST  CITY.  117 

But  Swift,  deeming  it  safe  to  allow  no  risk,  did  not 
relax  his  hold  of  the  girl. 

"  Are  you  a  reporter  ?  "  he  asked,  with  an  unac 
countable  desire  to  keep  the  conversation  in  his  own 
hands.  "  This  gentleman  and  myself  are  on  the 
Daily  Planet^  the  other  man  is  professor  of  the  bal 
loon." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  "  she  answered  with  a  first 
approach  to  a  smile.  "  I  am,  or  at  least  I  was, 
society  reporter  on  the  llussell  Telegraph"  The 
last  word  started  Mr.  Ticks  up  again. 

"You  witnessed  the  destruction  of  Russell?  Do 
you  know  that  its  cause  is  the  despair  of  the  world  ? 
Do  you  know " 

"  Oh,  it  was  dreadful !  dreadful !  dreadful !  "  in 
terrupted  the  girl  with  a  shudder.  "  I  was  out  in 
my  boat  alone  and  saw  it  all ! " 

The  lady  hid  her  face.  "  I  was  so  tired  that 
morning  I  couldn't  breathe.  It  was  oppressive. 
The  air  was  overcharged  so  strangely.  You  touched 
an  iron  post  and  a  spark  shot  out  and  gave  you  a 
shock.  I  couldn't  stay,  so  I  begged  off  and  took  my 
lunch  and  my  work  in  my  little  skiff  and  rowed  two 
miles  out  and  anchored  and  tried  to  write." 

"  Can  you  state  for  the  Planet,  Miss — ^  9  " 

« Insula  Magnet,  that's  my  name,  sir."" 


118  THE  LOST  CITY. 

"  Miss  Magnet,  can  you  state  at  what  exact  hour 
the  catastrophe  occurred?" 

The  balloon  had  now  come  to  a  standstill,  and 
floated  quietly  above  the  lake  and  the  doomed  city. 
The  four  wriggled  uncomfortably  in  the  improvised 
seats.  The  ropes  cut  them.  The  sun  beat  upon 
them  hotly.  They  were  exhausted  and  hungry  and 
parched. 

"Can't  we  go  down  ?"  suggested  Swift.  His 
brain  reeled  at  the  great  depth  below  him.  The 
person  who  lost  his  hold  and  fell  would  die  before 
he  reached  the  earth.  The  first  stage  in  the  Stras- 
burg  cathedral  is  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high, 
and  it  is  a  terrible  sight  to  look  over  its  stone  balus 
trade.  No  one  forgets  his  sensation  when  he  leans 
over  the  top  of  the  Eiffel  tower,  a  thousand  feet 
from  the  asphalt  pavement  below.  Judge  what  it 
was  to  those  inexperienced  travellers  to  be  over  ten 
thousand  feet  high,  clinging  like  weather-beaten 
flies  to  these  straining  ropes  ! 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  descend  yet  in  this  calm  for  as 
many  dollars  as  we  are  feet  high.  We're  safe 
enough  here.  Look  up,  man !  Look  up  !  Shut 
your  eyes.  That's  best  !  " 

But  Mr.  Ticks  pugnaciously  returned  to  his  ques 
tion.  What  was  a  little  matter  of  falling  ten  thou- 


THE  LOST  CITY.  119 

sand  feet  or  so  ?    A  fact  startling  and  valuable  was 
at  stake  and  at  hand. 

"  It  was  just  a  quarter  of  ten,"  answered  Miss 
Magnet,  in  a  low,  horror-stricken  tone.  .  "  I  was 
writing.  Suddenly  a  bitter  vapor  enveloped  every 
thing.  There  was  no  wind,  no  sun,  no  clouds,  only 
this  dense,  strange  atmosphere.  It  prostrated  me. 
There  were  a  number  of  boats  near  me.  These  were 
all  of  the  new  patent.  They  were  steel.  I  saw  great 
balls  of  fire  dance  from  boat  to  boat.  Then  there 
came  from  the  city  a  light  such  as  I  never  saw  be 
fore.  It  flashed  like  an  enormous  meteor,  like  an 
incandescent  flame.  It  enveloped  Russell.  I  was 
scorched  even  where  I  was  by  the  flash.  I  heard 
a  hissing  sound  like  water  on  melted  iron.  And 
then—" 

"  And  then  ? "  persisted  Mr.  Ticks  in  a  kind  of 
rapture. 

"  And  then  I  must  have  fainted  away,  When  I 
came  to  there  was  no  city,  only  masses  of  blackness 
and— and—  Oh,  the  boats!  The  people!  They 
were  all  gone  !  Not  capsized— not  drowning — but 
gone.  There  were  no  boats.  There  were  no  people. 
There  wasn't  even  a  dead  body  to  keep  me  company  ^ 
I,  only  I,  was  left,  living  and  alone  upon  the  hissing 
water  .  .  When  I  was  able  I  rowed  back.  The  shore 


120  THE  LOST  CITY. 

looked  horrible  and  ridged,  as  if  molten  lead  had 
been  poured  into  it.  When  I  came  nearer  an  awful 
heat  and  a  deadly  odor  overcame  me.  I  had  barely 
strength  to  row  back  and  anchor  again.  Then  the 
mist  settled  every  where  except  where  I  was."  The 
girl  stopped  for  a  moment,  breathless. 

"  I  couldn't  see  anything.  It  was  hot,  and  then  it 
was  cold.  I  tried  to  eat  my  luncheon.  I  tried  to  get 
some  sleep.  I  called  and  called  for  help.  I  couldn't 
tell  night  from  day.  I  can't  say  whether  it  was  four 
or  five  days.  I  said  five.  I  must  have  been  faint  a 
good  deal.  The  worst  thing  was  being  alone.  I 
expected  to  die.  I  got  pretty  weak  .  .  .  Then  I  saw 
the  balloon."  The  girl  bowed  the  face  which  she 
could  not  hide,  and  sobbed  at  her  own  dreadful 
story. 

Swift  was  greatly  moved.  "  Miss  Magnet,"  he 
said  gently,  putting  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 
"  I  think  you  had  better  rest.  You  are  tired  out.  This 
is  different,  you  know.  You  needn't  when  you  get 
safely  down."  The  girl  gave  him  a  grateful  glance 
and  obeyed  him  quietly. 

"How  did  she  escape?"  soliloquized  Mr.  Ticks, 
loud  enough  to  be  overheard. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know — don't  ask  me — unless  it  was 
that  I  was  in  a  wooden  boat.  All  the  rest  on  the 
lake  go  by  storage  battery  and  are  made  of  steel. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  121 

Mine  is  the  only  old-fashioned  boat,  but  I  was  always 
afraid.  Everybody  laughed  at  me,  but  I  did  what  I 
do  at  home.  I  cut  off  the  legs  of  a  chair  and  fixed 
them  in  glass  tumblers.  I  always  sit  in  my  office 
on  glass  tumblers.  My  bed  rests  on  glass  tumblers, 
too.  It's  a  non-conductor,  you  know.  I  used  to  get 
shocked  every  clay.  Everybody  got  shocked  in 
Russell,  but  they  pretended  not  to  mind  it." 

"  But,  Miss  Magnet,  do  you  know  what  is  the 
cause  of  Russell's  fate  ?  of  this  deadly  atmosphere 
beneath  us  ?  " 

"N-no — unless — of  course  that  can't  be.  I  guess 
it's  a  visitation  of  Providence — but  I  don't  know  for 
what."  The  girl  stopped,  awed  at  the  thoughts  she 
had  evoked. 

"  A  visitation  of  Providence ! "  repeated  Mr.  Ticks, 
slowly.  "  Yes,  she  is  right.  The  sin  of  presump- 
tuousness  was  visited  upon  that  unhappy  place." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  ;' — Swift  started  up.  Some 
how  he  had  forgotten  Russell,  its  mysterious  fate, 
his  mission,  everything  but  the  girl.  He  had 
awaked  to  his  duty.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
the  whole  thing  is  dne  to  e — ?  " 

"  Hold  on  !  Look  below  !  "  interrupted  the  pro 
fessor. 

They  clung  to  the  ropes  and  glued  their  gaze  upon 


122  THE  LOST  CITY. 

the  sight  so  far  beneath  them.  The  storm  had  mag 
ically  cleared  away.  The  sunlight  now  pierced  the 
whole  landscape  for  the  first  time  since  the  disaster. 
The  lost  city,  in  black,  shapeless  ruins,  lay  directly 
beneath  them. 

"  We  will  go  down."  the  professor  opened  the 
safety-valve  cautiously.  "  The  devil  has  been  chased 
away  by  the  storm,"  he  said  emphatically. 

Indeed,  the  baleful  vapor  had  gone.  As  they 
swiftly  descended  strange  sights  met  their  eyes. 
They  could  still  see  everything  microscopically  for  a 
radius  of  twenty  miles  around.  Black  specks  were 
rushing  up  the  stricken  railroad  tracks,  along  the 
roads,  hurrying  to  the  city  of  doom.  Linemen  began 
to  extend  the  wires  ;  trackmen  began  laying  m'w 
tracks.  Fully  fifty  thousand  impatient  men  were 
madly  plunging  these  twenty  miles  from  different 
points  of  the  circumference,  converging  toward  Rus 
sell.  The  dead  line  had  become  a  mysterious  thing  r  •  f 
the  past.  The  danger  to  life  was  over,  and  it  became 
an  unprecedented  race  to  see  who  would  get  first 
upon  the  spot. 

"  If  this  calm  lasts,  as  I  think  it  will,  we  will  be 
on  the  ground  two  hours  ahead  of  the  crowd." 

Swift's  eyes  sparkled  in  reportorial  ecstasy. 

There  was  no  time  now  nor  inclination  for  words. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  123 

In  ten  minutes  the  High  Tariff  was  within  a  few 
hundred  feet  of  the  doomed  city.  Buzzards  followed 
its  descent  curiously. 

"  My  kingdom  for  a  notebook !  "  cried  Swift,  in 
anguish. 

"Take  mine,"  said  his  companion,  shyly,  "and 
my  stylo,  too." 

Swift  would  have  been  more  moved  by  this  atten 
tion  had  he  not  been  absorbed  in  the  sight  at  his 
feet. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  he  turned  to  Mr.  Ticks,  "  that 
this  is  all  the  effect  of  e ?  " 

"  Look  sharp,  now  !  "  interrupted  Professor  Ariel. 
"  Stand  ready  to  be  cut  down !  "  The  Professor  had 
manipulated  the  safety-valve  so  skilfully  that  in 
another  minute  they  grazed  the  serrated  ground. 
They  were  not  hurt.  One  wide  sweep  of  the  pro 
fessor's  knife,  and  the  High  Tariff,  freed  now  from 
all  restraint,  bounded  away  never  to  be  seen 
again. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Professor  Ariel,"  said  Swift,  immedi 
ately,  "  that  circumstances  compel  me  to  postpone 
my  part  of  the  contract.  But,  as  we  are  responsible 
for  your  loss,  I  will  guarantee  that  the  Planet  will 
make  it  all  right." 

The  professor  did  not  answer.    Absorbed,  he  fol- 


124  THE  LOST  CITY. 

lowed  the  High  Tariff  in  its  capricious  departure 
with  tender  interest. 

When  the"  three  turned  and  stared  about  them, 
they  stood  palsied  by  the  terrible  sight  before  them  : 
a  sight  never  permitted  to  mortal  view  before,  and 
we  pray  that  such  be  withheld  from  the  gaze  of  our 
poor  race  henceforth  forever. 

The  wide-awake,  the  proud,  the  busy  city  of  Rus 
sell  had  vanished.  Russell  in  its  short  and  meteoric 
career  had  spent  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars 
on  its  tall,  iron,  fireproof  blocks,  its  steel  grain  ele 
vators,  its  gilded  capitol,  its  granite  churches,  its 
hundred  factories,  its  indestructible  depots.  Where 
were  they  ?  Where  was  the  "  busy  hum  of  men  "  ? 
Not  a  girder,  not  a  column,  not  a  trace  of  the  com 
plicated  iron  vertebrae  of  this  metal  city  was  left  to 
mourn  the  grandeur  of  its  structures.  Not  a  corpse, 
not  even  a  bone  remained  to  tell  the  tale  of  the 
death  agony. 

Stricken  as  dumb  as  the  lower  brute  creation,  this 
one  poor  girl,  the  sole  survivor  of  thirty  thousand 
hopeful  citizens,  bereft  of  home,  of  friends,  of  em 
ployment,  of  hope,  of  everything  in  life  but  this 
hideous  memory,  uttered  a  low  cry  and  sank  sense 
less.  Swift  laid  her  gently  on  the  parched,  cracked 
ground ;  it  was  yet  heated  as  if  a  conflagration  had 
passed  over  the  place.  Where  but  five  days  ago 


THE  LOST  CITY.  125 

haughty,  frowning,  iron  blocks  of  stores,  of  hotels 
and  exchanges  stood,  there  were  ragged  gullies  and 
deep  fissures  and  jagged  ravines,  shining  in  the  sun 
light  with  a  black,  streaked  crust.  The  sight  was 
dreary  and  dead  and  deserted*  as  if  our  travellers  had 
been  suddenly  dropped  upon  the  surface  of  the 
moon.  The  ground  was  riven  as  by  some  pre 
historic  upheaval.  It  looked  as  if  subterranean 
springs  of  molten  steel  lava  had  spurted  from  the 
ground  and  had  melted  the  unhappy  city  in  their 
onward  path  and  had  carried  it  down  in  liquid  solu 
tion  to  the  lake. 

Mr.  Statis  Ticks  picked  up  a  piece  of  this  plu- 
tonian  slag  and  examined  it  attentively. 

"  I  didn't  know  that  brick  would  melt  like  this," 
he  said.  Then  again :  "  Here  is  platinum  fused 
with  iron  and  another  substance  I  do  not  know." 
In  a  second  or  two  he  added  : 

"  I  see  no  remains  of  glass.  It  must  have  evapo 
rated."  He  then  took  a  few  steps.  "  It  is  lucky," 
he  said  meditatively  ;  «  if  we  had  been  landed  a  few 
more  feet  to  the  left  we  should  have  been  broiled  to 
death.  A  part  of  this  lava  is  still  in  a  liquid  state." 


126  THE  LOST  CITY. 


'VII. 

THE  three  men  looked  each  other  in  the  eye.  Swift 
forgot  the  girl.  The  professor  forgot  the  balloon. 
Mr.  Statis  Ticks  had  forgotten  his  wife  and  seven 
children ;  but  this  was  no  unusual  circumstance. 
The  aeronaut,  having  less  awe  to  the  cubic  inch  in 
his  make — up  than  his  companions,  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"What  does  this  gol-darned  thing  mean,  any 
how?" 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Swift,  recoiling. 

But  Mr.  Statis  Ticks  bared  his  head  before  the  ex 
tinct  city. 

"  It  means,"  said  the  student,  solemnly,  "  the 
presumptuous  impiety  of  man  and  the  vengeance  of 
Almighty  God  !  It  means,"  he  added,  slowly,  "  in 
calculable  volts  of  uncontrollable  electricity  acting 
and  acted  upon  by  nascent  oxygen  and  hydrogen.  It 
means  that  Russell,  the  greatest  producer  of  the 
electro-motor  power  on  the  continent,  has  been 
smitten  by  its  servant.  It  means  that  man  lias 


THE  LOST  CITY.  127 

outstripped  his  knowledge  of  this  mysterious  fluid, 
and  has  ignorautly  converted  through  millions  of  in 
adequate  conductors  and  faultily  insulated  wires  the 
terrible,  the  unfathomed  power  of  electricity  into 
light  and  heat  and  force  ;  that  Russell  was  gradually 
becoming  a  gigantic  storage  battery,  charged  and 
surcharged,  until  the  time  when  its  electrostatic 
capacity  had  been  criminally  abused,  the  negative 
forces  of  the  heavens  concentrated  over  the  obnoxious 
territory,  and  a  discharge  unparalleled  in  electrical 
experiments  restored  nature's  equilibrium,  and  con 
sumed  in  one  unspeakable  spark  Russell  and  its  blind 
inhabitants." 

"My- God!.  Can  this  happen  to  Boston?"  cried 
the  professor,  trembling. 

"  Or  New  York  ?  "  asked  Swift. 

«  Or  to  Chicago  ?  "  added  the  girl,  faintly.  She 
had  revived  and  was  looking  about  her  in  a  ghastly 
way.  "  My  mother  used  to  live  there." 

This  truly  feminine  view  of  a  scientific  subject 
passed  unnoticed. 

Mr.  Ticks  stood  with  his  uncovered  head  yet  bent 
before  the  annihilated  city.  He  spread  his  two  hands 
out,  palms  to  the  ground,  with  a  gesture  of  indescrib 
able  significance,  and  made  no  reply. 

Black,  vitreous  masses  of  melted   conglomerate 


128  THE  LOST  CITY. 

spread  before  them.  Where  had  stood  the  city,  the 
sloping  plain  offered  no  obstruction  to  the  view. 
Russell,  to  the  last  splinter  of  iron  or  of  wood,  to 
the  last  chip  of  brick  or  stone,  to  the  last  bone  of 
the  last  corpse,  was  fused  into  a  terrible  warning  to 
the  world  by  the  rebellion  of  its  own  electricity. 

"  I  guess  none  of  'em  knew  what  struck  'em !  " 
The  professor  hazarded  this  humane  suggestion,  feel 
ing  that  the  oppressive  silence  should  be  broken 
somehow. 

"  The  Kremmler  chair  was  nothing  to  it,"  said 
Swift. 

"  You  are  right,"  answered  Mr.  Ticks,  gravely. 
"  That  was  the  only  boon.  So  sudden  and  intense 
was  the  heat  that  men  were  ashes  and  the  city  was 
molten  before  nerves  could  convey  sensation  to  the 
brain.  In  the  fraction  of  a  second,  in  the  twinkling 
of  a  thought  it  was  not,  for  God  took  it." 

The  four  breathed  heavily.  Again  Mr.  Ticks 
broke  the  silence.  lie  laid  his  hand  paternally  upon 
the  young  lady's  shoulder. 

"  It  is  very  fortunate,  Miss  Magnet,  that  you  were 
the  only  thoroughly  insulated  person  in  this  whole 
territory.  The  wooden  boat,  the  inverted  glasses 
saved  you.  You  only  had  a  normal  amount  of  elec 
tricity  in  you.  You  were  a  poor  conductor,  other- 


THE  LOST  CITY.  129 

wise  you  would  have  evaporated  through  the  law  cf 
induction." 

"  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,  or  I'll  be  a  fit  can 
didate  for  an  idiot  asylum ! "  blurted  out  the  pro 
fessor  finally.  "  I  am  dying  for  a  chaw." 

He  cast  impatient  glances  at  a  trackless,  desolated 
grade  a  mile  away.  This  grave  of  a  great  trunk 
line  extended  beyond  their  view. 

The  four  had  not  stirred  from  where  they  had 
been  dropped  by  the  balloon.  To  do  so  they  would 
have  had  to  pick  their  way  cautiously.  Russell  was 
like  an  extinct  volcano.  She  was  yet  hot.  But  she 
did  not  smoke,  as  one  might  have  expected.  There 
were  no  smouldering  embers  left  to  produce  smoke. 
Combustion  had  been  instantaneous  and  com 
plete. 

But  the  travellers  had  no  need  to  go  sight-seeing. 
Everywhere  was  the  same  blackened,  cooling,  ferru 
ginous  slag.  To  see  one  square  yard  was  to  see  the 
whole.  The  appalling  thing  about  the  effect  was 
the  cause.  Civilization,  ever  ready  with  revengeful 
thrusts,  as  if  protesting  against  the  advance  of 
science,  had  produced  a  new  accident,  a  unique 
disaster. 

Swift  made  an  automatic  motion  for  his  watch. 

« I  must  go,"  he  said ;  « I  must  get  my  despatch 

9 


130  THE  LOST  CITY. 

to  the  Planet  in  time  for  the  evening  edition.  We 
will  have  a  scoop  on  the  whole  world." 

"  I'm  your  man,"  said  the  professor.  "  We  can 
foot  it  to  the  nearest  telegraph  station  in  four 
hours." 

"  Ah,  I  forgot,"  said  Swift.  "  That  will  lose  me 
the  four  o'clock  edition.  I'll  have  to  hold  the  wire 
all  night  if  I  can  get  it.  I'll  wire  such  an  account 
as  no  other  paper  will  ever  get.  There  isn't  a  min 
ute  to  lose ! "  It  was  then  that  Mr.  Statis  Ticks, 
realizing,  whether  from  calculation  or  from  sympa 
thy,  that  Miss  Magnet  could  make  no  such  forced 
march,  and  seeing  that  the  girl  only  held  herself  to 
gether  under  the  tension  of  the  great  excitement, 
gallantly  proposed  to  remain  by  her  and  join  the 
rest  of  the  party  that  evening  by  the  first  team  that 
could  be  chartered. 

But  the  young  lady  unexpectedly  refused  the 
proposition.  Her  whole  nature  shrank  from  spend 
ing  another  minute  in  that  blasted  spot.  It  was 
therefore  arranged,  much  to  Mr.  Ticks'  disappoint 
ment  (for  he  had  hoped  to  add  to  his  copious  stock 
of  mental  notes  by  further  investigation  on  the 
ground),  that  the  girl  should  accompany  them,  as  far 
as  she  Avas  able,  down  the  railroad,  away  from  the 
lost  city. 


THE  LOST  CITY.  131 

After  a  drink  of  lake  water  they  started  off,  Swift 
supporting  Miss  Magnet  on  the  one  side  and  Mr. 
Ticks  on  the  other,  the  professor  stalking  ahead. 

"  Even  the  lake  tastes  of  it,"  said  Swift.  "  Ugh  ! " 

"  Pass  a  current  of  electricity  through  a  tumbler 
of  water  and  there  will  be  detected  the  same  flavor, 
though  not  so  strong,"  answered  Mr.  Ticks. 

The  party  made  two  miles  slowly.  Dispite  all  her 
Western  courage  and  energy,  Insula  Magnet  tottered 
by  the  way.  To  divert  her  attention,  Mr.  Ticks  led 
her  on  to  talk  about  the  electrical  wonders  of  the 
extinct  city.  The  girl  enlarged  in  a  sad  way  upon 
its  many  and  its  curious  uses.  The  baby  carriages, 
she  said,  took  their  helpless  occupants  on  an  un 
aided  turn  around  a  large  oval  track  in  the  park. 
They  went  by  storage  battery.  One  electrician  could 
take  the  place  of  twenty  nurses  and  control  the 
power.  Once  in  a  while  a  baby  died  suddenly.  The 
doctors  invariably  pronounced  it  a  case  of  heart 
failure.  Washing  was  now  entirely  done  by  elec 
trical  apparatus,  likewise  ironing  and  cooking.  The 
great  American  problem  of  the  "  hired  girl,"  Russell 
considered  herself  to  have  solved. 

An  ingenious  arrangement  had  been  recently  de 
vised  to  have  the  electricity  supply  the  place  of  valet- 
de-chambre,  but  only  a  few  had  used  it.  One  or  two 


132  THE  LOST  CITY. 

thought  it  a  hardship  to  be  aroused  from  bed  whether 
one  would  or  no,  to  be  washed  and  summarily  dressed 
by  an  implacable  power  that  performed  its  set  tasks 
stolidly  in  spite  of  anathemas  and  threats.  Can  a 
man  abuse  his  electrical  valet  ?  Let  him  try  it  if  he 
dare. 

The  phonograph  was  in  universal  use.  The  Pho 
nograph  Daily  was  a  rival — one  cannot  call  it  sheet, 
rather  wax  cylinder — just  started,  and  the  din  made 
by  those  loquacious  instruments  was  worse  than  the 
chatter  of  monkeys  in  the  cocoanut  groves  of  New 
Guinea. 

Electric  heaters  warmed  the  rooms.  Electric 
paper  lighted  them  with  a  suffused  and  generous 
glow.  No  one  used  stairs.  Electric  elevators  did 
all  the  arduous  house-climbing.  No  one  made  calls 
any  more,  for  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  ring  your 
acquaintance  up  and  see  her  in  her  drawing-room 
while  you  talked  to  her.  Women  made  an  elaborate 
toilet  for  such  interviews.  It  was  soon  expected 
that  conversation  would  be  entirely  dispensed  with, 
for  with  a  sensitive  galvanoscope  attached  to  the 
brain  at  a  certain  point,  that  was  to  be  patented,  the 
minutest  current  of  thought  could  be  registered  upon 
a  cylinder. 

Authors  would  only  need  to  fix  their   attention 


THE  LOST  CITY.  133 

upon  the  plot ;  the  delicate  instrument  would  record 
it  indelibly  for  their  hearers'  gratification. 

The  well-appointed  electric  coupe  was  always 
ready.  There  was  no  worry  about  oats  and  spavin 
and  glanders.  Miss  Magnet  told  of  many  other  new 
contrivances  that  electricity  had  now  to  perform. 
The  development  of  this  power  through  the  new 
dynamos  made  it  possible  for  men  in  Russell  to 
dispense  utterly  with  work.  You  went  so  far  as  to 
put  five  cents  in  the  slot  at  any  one  of  a  hundred 
street  corners,  and  your  shoes  were  electrically  pol 
ished  to  a  patent  leather  whine.  There  was  no  more 
night,  for  carbon  and  incandescent  lamps  had  stabbed 
the  night  so  that  any  hovel  was  brighter  than  the 
average  day.  The  girl  stopped  for  breath  and  sat 
down.  She  was  exhausted.  Swift  cheered  her 
tenderly.  But  Mr.  Ticks  dryly  remarked  : 

"  Better  a  city  without  electricity  than  electricity 
without  a  city!" 

The  girl  smiled  at  this  heresy,  and  nodded  her 
head  emphatically  in  a  feeble  way.  She  could  hard 
ly  move. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  Mr.  Ticks  seemed  over 
come  with  uneasiness.  He  got  up  and  sat  down 
again.  He  kicked  the  earth.  He  examined  the 
charred  sleepers.  He  dug  for  the  lost  rails.  Then 


134  THE  LOST  CITY. 

he  awoke  from  his  occupation  with  a  sudden  start 
as  if  rudely  shaken  from  a  dream.  Swift  was  used 
to  his  colleague's  idiosyncrasies.  Besides  he  did  not 
now  notice  them.  He  was  otherwise  occupied.  But 
the  professor  could  stand  these  performances  no 
longer,  and  with  rude  emphasis  he  burst  forth  : 

"  Dang  it,  man,  if  youVe  got  anything  on  your 
darned  mind,  jerk  it  out,  if  not —  '  Professor  Ariel's 
manners  had  become  decadent  in  proportion  to  the 
time  that  had  elapsed  since  he  and  the  Ilir/h  Tariff 
had  parted  company. 

UI — I—  '  interrupted  Mr.  Ticks,  with  a  start. 
"  The  fact  is,  I  cannot  as  yet  account  for  that  deadly 
atmosphere  that  enveloped  this  section.  What  was 
in  it  to  kill  ?  Its  effect  en  me  was  unlike  any  other 
experience  that  I  can  recall.  It  is  my  inconsolable 
regret  that  it  is  not  classified  in  my  mind." 

"  Did  you  know,"  asked  Miss  Magnet,  suddenly, 
"  that  a  new  land  improvement  company  was  started 
this  spring  for  raising  four  crops  a  year?  All  the 
farms  for  twenty  miles  around  were  bought  up. 
They  spent  over  a  million  dollars  in  laying  wires  in 
the  ground  throughout  the  whole  country,  on  the 
theory  that  these  voltaic  currents  applied  to  grain 
and  fruit  and  vegetables  would  excite  such  crops  to 
quicker  verdure  and  maturity.  The  company  said 


THE  LOST  CITY.  135 

that  it  was  an  experiment  on  a  grand  scale;  but 
they  were  much  laughed  at.  I  said  it  was  a  danger 
ous  scheme,  and  nearly  lost  my  position  in  conse 
quence.  I  have  heard,  though,  that  it  was  a  great 
success." 

During  this  recital  Mr.  Ticks'  eyes  glistened  with 
excitement. 

"  Ah ! "  he  said,  "  I  am  under  a  thousand  obliga 
tions  to  you,  young  lady.  Of  course  I  could  not  con 
ceive  of  such  a  thing,  not  knowing  the  facts.  It  is 
all  plain  now.  The  first  discharge,  enormous  and 
deadly  as  it  was,  was  not  enough.  This  network  of 
wires  attracted  the  surplus  electricity.  The  soil 
must  be  of  such  a  quality  as  to  convert  this  territory 
into  an  enormous  secondary  battery.  The  subsoil 
must  have  acted  as  a  monstrous  insulator.  I  shall 
subject  it  to  a  minute  analysis.  Are  we  on  the  verge 
of  a  new  electrical  discovery  ?  Was  this  deadly  phe 
nomenon  a  hitherto  unknown  property  of  the  electri 
cal  fluid  ?  For  to  walk  within  the  dead  line  was  like 
walking  into  a  saturated  Ley  den  jar.  Its  effect  must 
have  also  been  to  devitalize  the  oxygen  and  nitrogen 
of  the  atmosphere.  The  victim  was  electrified  and 
suffocated  to  death  at  the  same  instant.  At  last  I 
understand  the  complexity  of  my  astonishing  symp 
toms.  The  vibratory  storm  that  we  so  narrowly 


136  THE  LOST  CITY. 

escaped  was  not  due  to  barometric  depression,  but 
came  as  a  responsive  consequence  of  this  surcharged 
area.  When  that  wire  ladder  was  finally  cut  off  and 
fell ;  when  it  reached  a  certain  position ;  when  one 
end  touched  the  negative,  the  other  the  positive  pole, 
then  the  current  became  completed  and  this  gigantic 
battery  was  discharged.  Had  we  not  been  rising  at 
the  rate  of  a  hundred  feet  a  second  we  should  have 
been  fused  after  the  fashion  of  the  inhabitants  of  this 
ghastly  territory.  The  discharge  once  having  taken 
place,  this  country  is  again  free  to  man  and  beast." 

"  Gosh  ! "  was  all  that  the  subdued  professor  could 
say. 

And  now  the  four  travellers  lifted  up  their  eyes, 
and  saw  before  them  on  the  horizon  black  moving, 
indistinct  masses,  as  if  brobdignagian  locusts  were 
swarming  up  the  track.  Here  were  the  hosts  of 
careworn  men,  plunging  impatiently  toward  the  lost 
city  for  the  news  that  the  unaccountable  and  malig 
nant  power  had  hitherto  denied  them.  The  four 
needed  courage  to  meet  this  unrestrained  and  des 
perate  mob.  Who  were  these  in  the  van  ?  What 
pallid  faces,  what  haggard  eyes,  what  piteous  ges 
tures  !  Alas,  they  were  the  mourners  of  the  dead ! 
Love  had  wrestled  its  way  ahead  of  plunder,  and 
grief  had  outrun  greed.  In  the  front  ranks  were 


THE  LOST  CITY.  137 

women  wailing  and  panting  desperately  to  keep  pace 
with  unmanned  men. 

This  woeful  sight  aroused  Mr.  Ticks.  He  raised 
his  hands  towards  the  lost  city  after  the  manner  of 
an  inspired  prophet,  and  there  and  then  uttered  the 
following  impassioned  Avarning  to  humanity,  which 
Swift  took  down  in  shorthand  in  the  borrowed  note 
book  : 

"  Woe  unto  you  that  multiply  currents  you  can 
not  control !  Woe  unto  you  that  net  your  country 
with  the  trap  of  sudden  death  !  Woe  unto  you  that 
toss  innocent  men  on  broken  wires;  that  surprise 
your  victims  in  the  counting-house,  the  home,  the 
street,  with  destructive  bolts  !  Woe  unto  you  that 
undermine  and  overcast  the  land  with  a  mysterious 
foe  !  Behold !  your  dead  shall  rise  in  serried  phalanx 
against  you,  and  their  mourners  shall  rend  you  to 
pieces  ! " 

The  only  burst  of  eloquence  known  to  the  biogra 
phy  of  this  prosaic  man  subsided  into  apathetic  si 
lence.  His  hands  dropped  heavily  at  his  sides.  He 
turned  away  from  Russell  and  beheld  its  blackened 
site  no  more. 

The  throng  was  now  upon  them.  Multitudes  of 
wild  faces  asked  questions  of  the  four.  Who  would 
answer  these  ?  Who  could  tell  the  terrible  truth  ? 


138  2Y/X  LOST  CITY. 

The  professor  paled  and  walked  behind  Swift.  Mr. 
Ticks  shrank  at  the  awful  responsibility,  and  took 
refuge  behind  the  professor.  Swift  halted  and  trem 
bled. 

"  Go,"  he  said  to  the  girl.  "  Go !  Only  a  woman 
can." 

And  she  went.  She  stepped  out  alone— a  few 
paces,  and  stood  quite  still.  Instinctively  the  masses 
stopped  before  her.  Eyes,  sleepless  with  weeping 
and  waiting,  riveted  themselves  upon  eyes  that  were 
still  haunted  with  a  portentous  experience.  The 
girl  stretched  out  one  hand  in  mute  appeal,  and  then 
burst  into  tears  and  sobbed : 

"  Don't !  Don't  look  like  that !  Oh,  you  poor 
people  !  I  am  the  only  one  !  " 

Awestruck  and  silently,  men  and  women  envel 
oped  her  and  ministered  unto  her.  It  was  the  ad 
vance  guard  of  the  Reel  Cross  Society,  led  by  Clara 
Barton,  that  sheltered  this  derelict  and  messenger 
of  woe. 

Set  upon  by  a  thousand  men,  Mr.  Ticks  and  the 
professor  told  what  they  knew.  Some  cursed  and 
doubted  and  pressed  on.  Some  bowed  their  heads 
and  turned  back.  But  Swift,  who  had  recognized 
Dubbs  driving  two  powerful  horses  and  unreeling 
two  telegraph  wires,  one  for  the  special  use  of  the 


THE  LOST  CITY.  139 

Associated  Press  and  the  other  for  the  Planet,  ac 
costed  him,  and  sent  the  most  famous  message 
known  to  the  American  newspaper  world  since  the 
close  of  the  civil  war. 

It  was  a  long  message,  and  we  can  only  give  the 
more  important  headlines  : 

Russell  is  no  more  ! 

Thirty  thousand  people  killed  by  one  unparalleled  electric 
discharge. 

The  gigantic  spark  fuses  the  whole  city  into  one  indistin 
guishable  molten  slag. 

Miraculous  escape  of  one  lady.     The  sole  survivor. 

Thrilling  rescue  by  the  Planet  reporters  in  a  special  bal 
loon. 

The  reporters  complete  the  circuit  and  touch  off  an  over 
charged  storage  battery  with  a  circumference  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles. 

The  territory  that  was  impassable  now  open. 

Fifty  thousand  people  race  toward  the  lost  city. 

Russell  perished  of  her  own  electricity. 

Civilization's  new  and  formidable  danger. 


Three   months  later,  on  a  secular   evening,  the 
upholstered  pews  of  an  uptown  church  were  filled 


140  THE  LOST  CITY. 

with  a  fashionable  audience.  As  the  church  bells 
tolled  eight  the  organ  pealed  forth  the  wedding 
march.  It  was  noticed  with  much  comment  that 
the  vast  audience- room  was  lighted  with  gas,  the 
new  electric  lights  being  dispensed  with.  The  bride, 
Miss  Insula  Magnet,  had  especially  desired  this. 

When  the  solemn  ceremony  was  ended,  and  when, 
amid  the  craning  of  necks,  the  bride  and  groom 
were  walking  down  the  white-ribboned  aisle,  a  di 
version  happened  that  arrested  the  newly  wedded 
couple.  But  this  was  not  construed  into  an  ill- 
omen.  A  diminutive  messenger  boy,  with  a  super- 
experienced  countenance,  had  met  them  half  way  to 
the  vestibule,  and,  with  a  saucy  smile,  held  up  an 
envelope  to  Mr.  Swift's  face. 

"  It's  half  an  hour  late.  Wires  burned  out.  Guess 
you'll  read  it  now  !  " 

Mr.  Statis  Ticks,  who,  although  well  and  worthily 
married,  officiated  in  some  unprecedented  capacity 
as  best  man,  gave  Professor  Ariel,  one  of  the  ushers, 
an  intelligent  glance.  The  latter,  being  the  happy 
possessor  of.  a  new  balloon  (which  he  ingenuously 
called  Reciprocity),  supplied  to  him  by  the  always 
generous  Planet,  and  fully  elated  by  his  present 
position,  answered  with  a  broad  wink.  Mr.  Swift, 
unconscious  of  the  thousands  that  were  standing  in 


THE  LOST  CITY.  141 

their  seats  to  look  at  him,  and  of  the  general  buzz 
of  interest,  tore  open  the  colored  envelope  with  re- 
portorial  haste,  and  read  as  follows.  It  was  cabled 
from  his  chief,  the  proprietor  of  the  Planet,  now 
unavoidably  detained  in  England  : 

"  Congratulations.      Advance   of  one    thousand  a 
year.     Report,   after    two    months'    bliss.      God   bless 


A  TEEEIBLE  EVENING. 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING- 


HARLAND  SLACK  sat  in  the  cafe  of  the  Parker  House 
carelessly  sipping  whiskey  and  Apollinaris.  He 
fondly  cherished  the  thought  that  this  combination 
was  an  excellent  anti-intoxicant,  a  brain-quieter  ;  on 
the  same  principle  that  B  &  S  is  supposed  to  clarify  an 
Englishman's  head.  Harland  Slack  was  an  attract 
ively  repulsive  man.  He  was  tall,  and  vigorously 
put  together.  Evening  dress  was  becoming  to  him. 
He  never  appeared  after  six  o'clock  without  it :  for 
it  set  off  his  long  blond  mustache,  his  fine  artificially 
curled,  blond  hair,  and  his  pale  regular  features  to 
their  best  advantage.  Seen  from  the  front  there 
were  times  when  he  was  considered  positively  hand 
some,  after  the  same  fashion  that  an  aristocratic 
French  doll  is  admired.  When  he  turned  his  profile, 

then  there  appeared  certain  hard  lines  of  the  cheek 
10 


143  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

and  weak  lines  of  the  forehead  and  chin  that  grated 
on  austere  physiognomists.  The  giddy  set  of  fash 
ionable  women,  at  whose  five  o'clock  teas  he  still 
remained  the  eprouvette  positive,  thought  him  ador 
able  :  the  matrons  with  marriageable  girls  thought 
him  debatable :  if  he  chanced  upon  a  spiritual 
woman,  she  considered  him  dangerous.  The  club 
men  privately  thought  him  unreliable. 

It  was  not  so  in  college  before  his  father  died. 
Then  the  main  features  of  his  life  were  promising. 
I  f  he  indulged  in  occasional  gayety  he  did  not  lose 
all  of  his  self-respect.  His  classmates  noted  in  him 
a  certain  quality  of  strength  or  reserve  that  was 
supposed  to  emanate  from  himself  rather  than  from 
the  hard  fact  that  his  paternal  allowance  was  only 
seven  hundred  a  year,  and  that  he  was  threatened 
with  disinheritance  if  he  ran  into  debt. 

But  now  he  had  inherited.  He  had  changed. 
His  hands  trembled.  His  eyes  twitched.  The  cor 
ners  of  his  mouth  danced  the  dance  of  St.  Titus. 
He  had  terrible  nightmares,  and  awoke  with  parched 
mouth  and  with  disagreeable  eyes,  and  with  a 
rebellious  head  whose  disorders  required  what  he 
called  "  an  eye-opener  "  to  cause  them  to  abate. 

His  best  friends  took  him  apart  and  said  :  "  Now 
really,  old  fellow,  this  won't  do.  Its — playing  the 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  147 

devil  with  you.  Come  now,  knock  off  for  a  bit.  I'll 
bet  you  a  hundrecf  dollars  you  can't  confine  yourself 
to  claret  for  a  month." 

And  Harland  Slack  would  answer  : 

"  Done  !  Have  a  cocktail  ?  "  He  usually  paid  the 
bet  before  three  hours  were  up.  The  limitation,  he 
said,  was  too  strict. 

"  I'll  give  him  two  years,"  said  his  nearest  inti 
mate  ;  "  and  then—  '  He  whistled  The  Dead  March  in 
Saul,  and  the  fellows  wagged  their  heads  ominously 
over  the  sad  case — and  their  ale. 

In  short,  Harland  was  not  only  addicted  to  drink, 
but  he  was  given  over  to  it  hand  and  soul.  Yet  he 
was  very  seldom  drunk.  He  paused  at  that  exces 
sively  polite  stage  which  was  the  surveyor's  line  of 
inebriety.  An  eminent  bar-keeper  pointed  him  out 
one  day  and  said  : 

"  It  isn't  the  boys  that  get  drunk  and  then  get 
over  it,  that  go  to  the  devil  so  fast :  it's  the  fellows 
that  take  a  little  all  day  long  and  keep  at  it  who 
can't  be  reformed." 

So  it  naturally  came  about  that  while  Harland 
Slack  was  in  this  benevolent  mood,  which  usually 
lasted  from  ten  in  the  morning  till  one  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  which  might  aptly  be  described  as  betwixt 
Hell  and  Earth,  he  became  the  common  prey  of 
common  humanity. 


148  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

His  was  not  to  reason  why  ; 
His  was  but  to  lend  a  fi'. 
Theirs  was  but  to  take  and  sigh  : 
"  I'll  pay  you  sometime  by  and  by." 

He  seemed  to  take  it  as  a  compliment  that  his 
purse  was  everybody's  bank,  with  a  daily  run  on  it. 
It  was  lucky  for  him  that  the  enormous  principal 
left  by  his  economical  father  could  not  be  touched. 
But  at  last,  as  it  once  in  a  while  happens  to  the  re- 
pleted,  the  unqualified  ability  to  borrow,  or  rather, 
in  this  instance,  to  steal,  led  to  a  pall.     Unlock  every 
safe,  unbar  every  vault,    open  up  every  store    to 
pillage,  and  the  robber,  glutted  with  desire,  will  dis 
appear.      On  the  same  principle,  at   the  time  of 
our  historiette,  Harland's  friends,  even  his  bar-room 
acquaintances,  were  overtaken  by  a  sentiment  of  self- 
reproach  or  honor,  and  there  was  a  general  movement 
to  swear  off  borrowing  from  this  man  who  never 
refused  a  loan. 

On  the  evening  of  which  we  speak  Harland  sat 
languidly  waiting  for  a  friend  who  had  an  appoint 
ment  to  accompany  him  to  the  club.  It  was  early, 
scarcely  eight,  and  he  aimlessly  fingered  a  loose  roll 
of  bills  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  smiled  inanely  at 
the  man  behind  the  desk,  and  then,  despairing  of 
entertainment,  began  to  spin  a  trade- dollar  on  the 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  149 

polished  table.  The  cafe  was  nearly  empty,  and  he 
was  to  all  purposes  alone.  This  was  a  state  which 
he  dreaded  above  all  others.  Like  Napoleon,  hi  the 
company  of  even  one  he  felt  an  inspiring  confidence 
and  security.  When  he  was  with  people,  he  forgot 
that  whiskey  was  an  insisting  necessity :  he  only 
thought  he  drank  because  he  was  a  good  fellow  and 
"  one  of  the  boys." 

Ilarland  had  never  been  visited  by  the  uttermost 
penalty  of  his  condition.  It  cannot  be  said  that  he 
never  feared  that  state  whose  ugly  name  we  omit 
when  we  can,  or  reduce  to  its  significant  initials  ;  as 
if  that  reduced  the  horror  of  the  fact.  But  he  feared 
it :  he  feared  it  greatly.  The  possibility  of  delirium 
tremens  unmanned  him.  Then  he  sweat  drops  of 
apprehension,  and  with  vague,  shuffling  remorse 
promised  himself  to  improve.  He  possessed  all  the 
weakness  of  Sydney  Carton  with  none  of  that 
martyr's  pathetic  nobility  or  ability. 

Harland  Slack  sat  alone  and  began  to  scowl  at 
the  bottle  of  Apollinaris.  His  weak  face  looked  hag 
gard.  Perhaps  he  felt  that  he  had  cast  the  key  of 
his  tomb  through  the  grated  door  after  he  had  im 
mured  himself  within.  He  glared  at  the  whiskey, 
and  his  thoughts  cursed  it ;  then  he  smiled  and  took 
another  swallow.  Even  as  he  drank  his  mind 


150  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

wandered  back  to  his  college  days  when  he  was 
unimplicated  in  high  treason  against  himself.  He 
couJd  not  help  remembering,  sometimes  :  he  seldom 
thought  of  the  future. 

The  door  opened.  He  tossed  the  remainder  of 
his  glass  off,  and  looked  around,  expecting  his  com 
panion.  Then  he  turned  back,  disappointed.  Then 
he  looked  again. 

A  stalwart  man  entered  with  an  air  of  vitality 
which  is  often  mistaken  for  authority.  The  vigor 
ous  development  of  his  body  gave  a  startling 
impression  of  height  and  power.  He  was  dressed 
with  elegant  negligence.  His  dark  beard  was  cut  to 
a  point,  and  he  look  like  a  Parisian  artist.  Black 
eyes  from  under  the  brim  of  a  silk  hat  compelled 
attention  by  reason  of  an  imperions  steadiness  that 
indicated  the  possession  of  unusual  self-control. 
The  waiters  jumped  to  serve  this  man.  Harland 
was  annoyed  at  this  obsequiousness  which  he  had 
never  received.  He  tried  to  look  haughtily  indiffer 
ent,  but  he  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  this  person. 
The  stranger  returned  his  glance.  He  advanced 
upon  the  fashionable  inebriate,  and  paused  at  his 
table.  Harland  Slack  arose  as  if  he  were  accepting 
a  challenge,  and  trembled.  The  two  looked  at  each 
other. 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  151 

«  1  declare,  old  fellow.  Is  it  you  ?  Why,  I  haven't 
seen  you  since  Class  Day.  You  know  me,  Slack, 
don't  you  ?  " 

The  speaker  smiled  and  took  off  his  hat.  This 
action  heightened  the  impression  of  power  which  he 
had  first  made.  His  forehead  was  literally  the  dome 
of  his  body.  It  was  as  if  the  Creator  had  deter 
mined  on  granting  this  man  an  unusual  supply  of 
brains,  and  had  then  packed  them  in  until  the  pres 
sure  had  distended  the  frontal  lobes.  His  brow  was 
an  overhanging  arch,  massive,  high,  compelling. 
This  was  so  marked  that  the  head  gave  almost  a  pain 
ful  impression  of  superabundant  intellectuality.  Har- 
land  immediately  recognized  his  classmate  from 
that  distinguishing  feature.  It  was  the  only  rec 
ognizable  one  left. 

"Randolph?" 

"  The  same.    Do  you  live  in  Boston  now  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course.     Sit  down — and  you  ?  " 

"  I  ?  I  am  a  practising  physician,  now  :  that's  all. 
Am  just  back  from  Paris  a  while  ago,  and  have  taken 
an  office.  I  was  telephoned  suddenly  to  a  patient 
out  of  town  and  ran  in  here  for  a  chop  before  I  went 
home." 

The  keen  eyes  of  Dr.  Alaric  Randolph  examined 
his  vis-a-vis  as  he  gave  his  brief  explanation.  He 


152  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

ordered  his  chops,  declined  an  offer  to  drink,  and 
noticed  with  professional  intelligence  Harland's  de 
mand  for  some  more  whiskey  and  the  tremulous 
way  with  which  it  was  taken.  No  words  were 
necessary  to  tell  this  student  of  human  miseries 
the  nature  of  Harland  Slack's  disease. 

Randolph  was  as  much  changed  for  the  better  as 
his  class-mate  was  for  the  worse.  It  was  a  wonder 
that  they  recognized  each  other  at  all.  Harland 
felt  the  difference,  but  could  not  analyze  it ;  while 
Randolph  studied  it  more  than  he  felt  it.  The 
college  student  who  did  not  room  in  "  Beck,"  and 
who  was  not  a  member  of  the  Hasty  Pudding  Club, 
who  had  no  time  for  society  and  theatricals,  who 
was  never  seen  at  Carl's,  who  was  suspected  of  being 
a  little  diffident,  had  suddenly  become  the  patron ; 
and  the  class-mate  whose  father's  wealth  had  given 
him  an  unassailable  social  rank,  yielded  with  feeble 
will  to  his  own  unspoken  instinct  of  inferi 
ority. 

Harland's  face  had  become  weazened  since  he  had 
left  college.  His  manly  frame  had  shrunken.  On 
the  other  hand,  Alaric's  features  had  expanded.  His 
skull  had  filled  out:  even  his  frontal  arch  was 
rounded. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  in  Paris,  Randolph  ? " 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  153 

asked  Harland  with  a  good-natured  laugh  and  a  faint 
attempt  at  condescension. 

Dr.  Randolph  looked  across  the  table ;  his  eyes 
twinkled  over  his  class-mate's  tone,  but  he  courteous 
ly  answered : 

"  I've  been  experimenting  there  for  five  years.  I 
went  the  usual  round  of  hospitals  and  studied  with 
Pasteur,  and  have  raised  scores  of  colonies  of  bacilli. 
Lately  I  have  busied  myself  with  investigations  of 
too  complex  a  nature  to  discuss.  And  you — 

«  Oh, — I'm  a — a  member  of  the  clubs,  you  know. 
I'm  now  engaged  in  breeding  beagles.  That  takes 
lots  of  time  you  know.  My  father  died  some  years 
ago,  and  I — eh — take  care  of  the  estate." 

"  So  ?  "  exclaimed  Randolph  with  a  German  length 
ening  of  the  vowel  sound.  Then  taking  the  oppor 
tunity  while  Harland  was  emptying  his  glass,  he 
regarded  him  thoughtfully. 

"  Look  here,  Slack,"  said  the  young  doctor  after  a 
moment's  hesitation.  "  What  do  you  say  to  spend 
ing  the  evening  with  me  ?  I  am  lonely  and  want  to 
talk  over  old  days.  You're  done  up  and  not  fit  to 
go  to  the  club  to-night." 

Now  Harland,  though  considerably  astonished  by 
the  invitation,  was  also  flattered. 

"But  my  appointment!     I  never  missed  an  ap- 


154  A  TERKIKLE  EVENING. 

pointment  in  my  life,  you  know,"  wavered  Harland 
unsteadily,  while  shifting  his  eyes  to  the  door. 

"  Never  mind  that  now.  I'll  leave  word  at  the 
desk.  Psst — gar9on.!" 

The  Doctor  spoke  masterfully ;  the  gentleman 
obeyed  him  as  readily  as  the  servant.  A  pencil  note, 
with  strict  injunctions  for  delivery  solved  the  inebri 
ate's  sodden  difficulty.  Slack  insisted  upon  adding 
that  he  would  still  meet  his  friend  between  ten  and 
eleven  o'clock.  Randolph  smiled  indulgently,  and 
they  passed  out  into  the  cool  air  arm  in  arm. 
Randolph  hailed  a  coupe  and  got  his  friend  into  it 
with  pardonable  alacrity. 

Harland  was  unusually  communicative  that  even 
ing  with  the  man  from  whom  he  would  have  hardly 
deigned  to  accept  a  cigarette  in  his  college  days. 
He  could  not  understand  the  reason  for  what  he 
considered  this  sudden  social  degradation.  He 
accepted  it  in  a  dazed  way,  for  he  had  been  drinking 
steadily  all  day. 

The  cab  stopped  before  one  of  the  few  stone  houses 
less  common  in  Boston  than  in  New  York,  whose 
construction  is  at  once  singularly  deceptive  and 
honest.  It  had  a  frontage  of  seventeen  feet. 

"  A  good  sized  dog-kennel ! "  observed  Harland 
Slack,  giancing  at  it  superciliously  as  he  got  out. 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  155 

"  These  are  my  offices,"  answered  Dr.  Randolph 
urbanely,  paying  110  attention  to  the  half- maudlin 
discourtesy. 

Supposing  that  one  of  these  houses  with  a  frontage 
of  seventeen  feet,  has  a  depth  of  two  hundred  feet, 
and  is  five  stories  high  ?  The  dog-kennel  assumes  an 
area  of  nearly  half  an  acre.  There  may  be  large 
rooms,  almost  a  spacious  salon  in  one  of  these  in 
significant  homes.  Seemingly  unlimited  space  be 
hind  ridiculously  narrow  stone  walls,  is  one  of  the 
many  mysteries  of  city  life. 

Harland  Slack  sank  upon  the  sofa,  and  languidly 
watched  the  Doctor  turn  up  the  gas. 

"  You  haven't  a  nip  of  brandy,  have  you  ?  I  feel  so 
confoundedly  thirsty."  Dr.  Randolph  looked  at  the 
speaker,  whose  wavering  eye  vainly  strove  to  elude 
his.  The  Doctor  seemed  to  be  balancing  in  his 
mind  whether  to  grant  the  guest  his  wish  or  not. 

"  Look  here,  old  boy,"  said  Harland,  almost  with  a 
whine,  "  it  isn't  fair,  doncherno,  to  bring  a  fellow  in 
here  and  stare  at  him  that  way.  My  beagles  wouldn't 
treat  me  so.  I'm  burning  up  with  thirst.  Just  a 
little.  That's  hospitable,  you  know."  He  finished 
with  a  sigh  and  a  fuddled  look  of  entreaty.  He  had 
gone  a  half  an  hour  without  alcohol. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Slack,"  said  Randolph  slowly, 
"  of  course  you  shall  have  it.  But  I  would  rather 


156  A  TERIiinLE  EVENING. 

give  you  some  cordial  of  mine  first.  It  will  take 
your  thirst  away  sooner  than  your  infernal  liquor." 

Slack  nodded  wearily,  while  the  Doctor  unlocked 
a  black  cabinet  and  took  from  thence  a  brittle 
•flask  and  a  liqueur  glass.  He  held  the  flask  up  to 
the  light  before  Slack's  face.  The  liquid  flamed 
yellow  in  the  gaslight.  It  seemed  to  have  concen 
trated  in  its  ebullient  elements  the  exhilaration  of 
life.  Now,  the  yellow  cordial,  even  as  the  inebriate 
looked  upon  it,  glowed  and  became  incandescent. 
It  seemed  to  be  endowed  with  it3  own  principle  of 
energy.  Harland  Slack  started  up,  and  looked  at 
this  phenomenon  more  closely  with  intelligent 
astonishment. 

"  This,"  said  Dr.  Alaric  Randolph  observantly, "  is 
the -issue  of  many  laborious  years  abroad.  This  is 
the  theriaca  against  all  vital  poisons.  Watch  it ; 
for  even  as  you  look  upon  it,  you  absorb  its  virtue." 

There  was  no  melodrama  in  the  Doctor's  action  or 
accent.  He  spoke  quite  naturally.  Harland  was  as 
much  impressed  by  his  friend's  sincerity  as  by  the 
singular  appearance  of  this  elixir  vitce.  He  did  not 
need  to  be  urged  to  look  at  the  glass  again.  It  was 
a  fountain  of  boiling  light. 

At  this  moment,  a  knock  was  heard  at  that  door 
of  the  reception  room  which  evidently  led  into  the 


A  TEE1UBLE  EVENING.  157 

Doctor's  inner  office.  Dr.  Randolph  started,  quickly 
locked  the  door  leading  into  the  hall,  and  put  the 
priceless  flask  gently  upon  a  high  bookcase.  It  was 
on  a  level  with  his  face.  The  liquid  shot  bubbles 
of  animation  to  the  surface  ;  and  before  Slack's  eyes, 
as  if  gathering  fire  from  the  light  or  the  heat,  it 
slowly  began  to  turn  red.  The  languid  debauchee 
now  jumped  nimbly  to  liu  feet  and  stood  entranced 
before  this  beautiful,  perplexing  transformation. 

"  Keep  your  eyes  on  it  for  a  moment,  my  friend," 
whispered  Dr.  Randolph  :  "  watch  it  carefully  for 
me.  I  wish  to  note  its  changes.  It  differs  under 
variable  conditions.  Tell  me  about  it.  Do  not  touch 
it.  When  I  come  back  you  shall  taste,  and  then — " 
Harland  lost  the  last  words  as  the  physician  hurried 
out. 

Harland  Slack,  feeling  a  dull  sense  of  scientific 
responsibility,  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  occult  fluid, 
watching  its  strange  manifestations  eagerly.  His 
brain  throbbed  with  thoughts.  If  the  mere  sight 
of  this  curious  elixir  could  clear  the  clots  of  alcohol 
from  his  blood  and  his  will,  what  might  come  of  a 
draught  ?  He  walked  for  the  first  few  moments 
about  the  room  briskly.  He  stood  erect :  but  he  did 
not  take  his  gaze  from  the  flask,  nor  did  he  touch 
it.  It  now  shot  forth  colors  of  the  ruby.  Along 


158  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

the  rim  played  the  fires  of  the  spinel.  These  gave 
way  to  the  glow  of  the  garnet  ;  which  in  turn  van 
ished  before  gleams  whose  indescribable  radiance 
is  only  likened  to  the  blood  of  the  pigeon.  Ilarland 
was  eager  not  to  lose  the  lightest  stage  of  this  mar 
vellous  metamorphosis.  With  every  new  hue  fresh 
streams  of  blood  seemed  to  come  into  his  heart.  lie 
felt  so  strangely  that  he  soon  began  to  doubt  whether 
he  were  sober  or  not.  lie  rubbed  his  eyes,  and 
pinched  his  ears.  Yes,  he  was  awake  and  sane. 
This  was  no  delirum  of  a  caked  brain.  His  mind 
was  as  clear  as  the  waters  of  the  Bermuda  reefs. 
If  he  had  been  an  opium  eater,  he  might  have 
thought  these  the  legitimate  effects  of  the  dusky 
drug. 

As  soon  as  he  had  thoroughly  assured  himself 
of  the  validity  of  his  reason  he  began  to  hear  music. 
It  came  from  the  inner  room  whither  the  Doctor 
had  gone.  Without  taking  his  eyes  off  of  the  blaz 
ing  flask,  Harland  backed  up  to  the  door  and  lis 
tened.  The  strains  sounded  louder  as  he  approached. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  Castanet,  and  a  harp,  and  sing 
ing.  In  surprise  he  touched  the  door.  It  opened 
lightly.  His  curiosity  proved  stronger  then  the 
power  of  the  elixir  to  restrain  him,  and  he  turned. 
A  low  cry  of  amazement  leaped  from  his  lips.  He 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  159 

stopped  irresolute  and  looked  back.  The  glitter 
ing  alembic  was  extinguished.  The  liquid  shone 
but  dully  in  the  feeble  jets  of  gas.  What  could  there 
have  been  to  fascinate,  he  mused,  in  that  carafe 
of — water  ? 

He  forgot  the  Doctor.  He  abandoned  the  theriaca. 
He  strode  into  the  vast  hall  that  opened  up  before 
him.  As  he  advanced,  his  head  whirled  with  a  new 
intoxication.  He  wondered  how  so  narrow  a  house 
could  contain  such  a  superb  apartment.  Then  he 
perceived,  or  he  fancied  that  two  or  more  buildings 
had  been  thrown  into  one.  It  was  the  only  explana 
tion  of  the  spacious  area  which  his  imagination 
afforded,  and  it  satisfied  him. 

Before  him  extended  a  banquet-hall  decorated  with 
Oriental  magnificence,  and  lighted  with  many  lamps. 
In  its  centre  was  a  sumptuous  table.  Black  servants 
flitted  noiselessly  about.  Upon  a  yellow  rug  at  one 
side  crouched  a  dark  dancing  girl,  clad  in  gauze, 
waving  a  gauze  scarf.  She  reminded  him  of  some 
thing  he  had  read  about  the  celebrated  dancers  of 
the  Maharajah  of  Mysore.  This  beautiful  girl, 
with  a  bewitching  effort  at  unconsciousness,  arose 
and  whirled  down  the  long  hall  towards  the  young 
man,  waving  her  bare  arms  to  the  accompaniment 
of  stringed  instruments  and  the  measured  drone  of 
the  players.  Suddenly  the  dancer,  with  a  blinding 


160  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

pirouette,  wound  her  veils  modestly  about  her,  sal 
uted  Ilarlanci  with  a  profound,  mocking  courtesy, 
and  then  pointing  to  the  table  wafted  herself  away.. 
Harland  was  confounded.  What  strange  orgy  was 
this  ?  What  a  scene  from  India  dropped  upon  bleak, 
staid  New  England ! 

When  he  had  accustomed  his  eyes  to  the  blaze  of 
light  he  saw  that  another  woman  was  in  the  room. 
This  one  was  reclining  at  the  table.  He  recognized 
her  immediately.  This  fact  pleased  him  ;  for  it 
assured  him  that  he  was  still  himself.  It  also 
troubled  him,  for  he  had  solemnly  vowed  never  to 
allow  ills  eyes  to  rest  upon  her  again.  She  had. 
haunted  him  with  her  beauty  and  her  insolence 
since  he  had  forsworn  her.  There  flashed  his  sap 
phire  bracelet  on  her  slender  arm,  and  the  Alexan 
drite  for  which  he  had  sent  to  Russia,  took  to  itself 
at  her  white  throat  alternate  virulent  moods  of  red 
and  green.  She  was  entrancing,  and  he  loved  her. 
She  was  his  evil  genius,  and  he  feared  her.  She 
had  flattered  and  despised  him,  and  he  hated  her. 
How  laughingly  she  had  lured  him  with  her  jewelled 
hand  and  irridescent  eyes  down  the  pleasant  path 
that  brought  up  at  his  fatal  vice !  He  thought  of 
her  polite  orgies,  her  theatre  suppers,  her  one 
o'clock  germans,  and  her  select  parties  at  suburban 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  161 

hotels.  To  his  besotted  brain  she  was  a  scarlet 
witch  and  he  tied  from  her,  and  returned,  and  fled 
again. 

But  what  manner  of  man  was  this  Doctor  ?  Why 
would  they  trap  him  ? — weak,  sodden  thing  that  he 
was,  and  knew  that  he  was. 

Now,  as  he  looked  upon  her  there  was  a  snap  in 
his  heart,  and  her  power  upon  him  seemed  to  give 
away  and  break  like  a  valve  in  the  aorta.  How 
was  this  possible  ?  Could  a  man  not  care  for  her  ? 
With  sudden  surprising  disdain  he  approached  the 
beautiful  creature  before  whom  he  had  so  often 
trembled.  She  did  not  look  up  at  him,  but  threw 
herself  back  further  on  the  couch  and  motioned  to 
a  servant  for  some  wine.  Something  about  her 
superhuman  grace  revolted  him.  The  music  re 
doubled.  The  Indian  dancer  fanned  him  as  she 
sped  past.  He  did  not  notice  her.  He  was  above 
intoxication  of  the  senses.  What  was  this  woman  ? 
What  her  wine  ?  In  a  kind  of  sacred,  cold  revolt, 
he  stood  aloof.  He  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  moral  free 
dom.  He  advanced  a  step  or  two,  looked  down  at 
her  from  his  tall  height  and  ejaculated  brutally  : 

"  You  here?" 

She  did  not  look  up  at  this  insult.  Her  cheek, 
neck,  and  ears  flushed  and  then  became  deadly 

11 


162  A  TElllilliLE  EVENING. 

pale.  A  sneer  now  spread  itself  over  her  chin  and 
mouth. 

"  And  why  not,  you  poor  fool  ?  "  The  opprobrious 
epithet  seemed  feebly  to  express  the  infinite  con 
tempt  in  which  she— even  she — had  held  him.  She 
had  called  him  this  with  equal  scorn  more  than  once 
before,  in  her  drawing-room,  and  he  had  never  felt 
the  shadow  of  resentment.  lie  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  laugh  feebly  and  to  turn  the  unpleas 
ant  personality  away  as  well  as  he  could.  15 ut 
now,  he  became  aware  of  the  contumely  for  the 
first  time.  lie  clenched  his  fists ;  he  breathed 
heavily.  He  did  not  trust  himself  to  speak.  He 
ground  his  teeth.  His  thoughts  became  singularly 
clear.  He  took  another  step  nearer.  She  turned 
her  haughty  head  and  smiled  mockingly  at  him, 
clicking  the  glass  with  her  finely-manicured  finger. 

"  I  did  not  know,  sir,  that  you  were  a  friend  of 
the  great  Doctor,"  she  chirped  in  her  falsetto  voice, 
and  her  lip  curled. 

"  Its  a  lie !     I  am  not !     He  is  a  scoundrel !  " 

Harland  spoke  savagely.  He  could  not  under 
stand  this  moral  convulsion  that  within  the  last 
few  minutes,  had  dominated  his  nature.  He  could 
only  express  it.  What  was  this  house?  For  the 
first  time  the  query  arose :  What  had  he  to  do  with 
a  questionable  evening? 


.1   TERRIBLE  EVENING.  l(]o 

"  You  are  drunk,  as  usual,"  answered  the  woman 
with  a  pert  upward  motion  of  disgust. 

At  this,  which  he  knew  to  be  a  libel  for  once, 
Harland's  hand  tore  at  his  heart :  a  terrible  rush  of 
blood  ran  to  his  brain.  The  music  hushed.  The 
dark  dancing-girl  sank  with  exhaustion  to  her  rug. 
The  room  was  stifling.  The  air  was  heavy  with 
the  perfume  of  roses,  and  attar,  and  wine.  Yet 
the  young  man's  head  was  poised,  his  eyes  were 
sane,  his  senses  untouched.  With  a  supreme 
effort  he  held  his  anger  in  check.  The  beauty,  not 
realizing  the  extent  to  which  she  had  tortured  him, 
laughed  aloud  and  contemptuously  cried  : 

"  Harland  Slack,  you  are  a  coward.  You  dare 
not  call  your  soul  your  own ;  for  you  are  always 
drunk.  Bah ! "  She  made  as  if  to  draw  herself 
from  beyond  his  touch.  lie  did  not  stir,  but  a 
frightful  whiteness  extended  over  his  hands  and 
face. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said  metallically. 

With  a  refinement  of  insolence  difficult  to  de 
scribe,  ignoring  his  person,  she  looked  through  him, 
and  with  a  gesture  ordered  the  music  to  begin 
again. 

Harland  stood  motionless  for  a  moment.  Immov 
able,  he  fixed  his  gray  eyes  upon  a  little  black 


164  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

square  of  'court-plaster  under  the  lobe  of  her  left 
ear.  The  music  crashed  through  the  banquet-hall. 
The  dancing- girl  tried  to  distract  the  man  of  stone. 
He  looked  at  that  little  black  patch.  Its  wearer 
shrugged  her  shoulders  significantly ;  then,  as  if 
wearied  of  the  thought  of  him,  she  moved  her  white 
arm  to  the  table  and  took  up  a  glass  flaming  with 
champagne ;  waving  it  towards  him  she  said  malev 
olently  : 

"There!  That's  what  you  are  waiting  for. 
Drink  and  go ! — Sot ! "  The  viciousness  of  the  act 
and  word  served  as  the  key  to  the  situation.  Like 
rusting  steel,  Harland  became  unlocked.  Oddly 
enough,  at  this  crisis  it  occurred  to  him  to  question 
whether  this  were  his  old  friend  at  all.  Then  who  ? 
Then  what?  Was  the  woman  an  embodiment  of 
all  the  past  evil  of  his  own  soul  ?  By  some  horrible 
law  of  metempsychosis  had  his  old  spirit  passed 
into  this  too  fashionable  married  flirt  at  his  side  ? 
That  outstretched,  mocking  hand — was  it  what  the 
abstainers  called  the  "demon  of  drink?"  How 
often  he  had  laughed  at  the  phrase,  lighting  his 
cigarette  with  their  tracts  ! 

At  the  fearful  import  of  these  thoughts,  he  felt 
himself  endowed  by  a  bidding  higher  than  fate. 
Justice  arose  and  compelled  him.  His  eyes  bright- 


A  TEtintnisE  EVENING.  165 

ened  before  lie  did  the  deed.  With  a  sweep,  he 
shattered  the  hand  that  held  the  slender  glass,  and 
snatching  up  a  silver  knife  from  the  table  lie  poised 
it  for  an  instant:  then  buried  it  to  the  hilt. 

It  struck  just  below  her  left  ear.  It  obliterated 
the  little  black  patch.  With  a  sound  more  like  a 
hiss  than  a  cry  the  woman  drooped  to  her  divan. 
The  music  stopped  with  a  frightened  crash.  The 
dancing-girl  fled  with  a  shriek;  but  liarland  stood 
immovable,  exultant,  holding  his  hands  ready  to 
strangle  if  the  wound  did  not  kill.  His  face,  but 
now  so  weak,  had  acquired  an  inexorable  strength. 
Strange !  At  this  moment  he  felt  himself  not  a 
murderer,  but  a  man. 

He  watched  his  victim  dying,  without  a  word ;  and 
when  her  curse  was  spent,  he  turned  and  walked 
triumphantly  back  through  the  wasted  magnificence 
to  the  room  from  whence  he  had  come. 

lie  did  not  hurry.  At  first,  he  did  not  apprehend 
arrest.  He  felt  as  if  he  had  accomplished  a  great 
deed.  Without  looking  back  he  closed  the  door  and 
sought  for  his  hat.  lie  put  it  on  and  made  for  the 
outer  entrance.  He  tried  it  and  found  it  locked. 

Now  at  last  he  began  to  comprehend  his  situa 
tion.  Terror  fell  upon  him.  Cold  drops  bathed 
him.  The  enormity  of  his  act  flashed  upon  his  con 
science.  Kill!  Kill  a  woman?  He  struggled  at 


166  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

the  window  and  the  door.  Both  were  impervious, 
lie  dared  not  go  back.  How  could  he  look  at  her? 
Escape  was  cut  off.  His  head  became  clotted  with 
the  old  sensations.  Fear,  such  as  makes  a  man's 
heart  stand  still,  assailed  him.  lie  looked  in  vain 
for  the  flask.  It  was  gone.  With  a  loud  cry,  he 
flung  himself  upon  the  sofa  and  fainted  dead  away. 

How  long  he  lay  there  of  course  he  did  not  know. 
Soon,  vague  cerebrations  began  to  torture  his  mind. 
It  burned  as  if  it  were  being  recalled  to  life  from  a 
frozen  state.  Then,  soaring  upward  from  deeps  be 
yond  the  deeps,  supported  through  irremediable  tur 
moil  by  an  overwhelming  power,  he  felt  himself 
gently  laid  upon  a  couch.  There  was  a  moment 
when  the  brain,  recovering  its  equilibrium,  swam 
and  spun.  Then  suddenly  he  found  consciousness 
and  emerged  through  the  mist  of  pain.  He  tried  to 
use  hU  limbs,  but  could  not  ris3.  With  an  effort 
he  strove  to  loosen  his  tongue,  but  could  not  speak. 
With  desperate  will  he  endeavored  to  open  his  eyes. 
Their  lids  were  riveted  together.  This  was  no 
hallucination.  He  was  never  more  alert  nor  more 
helpless. 

He  knew  that  some  one  was  bending  over  him. 
lie  felt  two  eyes  examining  his  soul.  He  had  the 
consciousness  that  there  was  nothing  hid  from  this 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  167 

intense  gaze.  Then  a  commanding  voice  spoke  to 
him,  and  a  hand  of  unutterable  persuasion  touched 
his  forehead. 

"  Harland  Slack !  "  said  the  ringing  voice.  Be 
ginning  a  little  above  a  whisper  it  seemed  to  in 
crease  to  oratorical  tones:  then  it  reverberated 
throughout  his  nature,  and  burst  upon  him  like  the 
rattle  of  thunder.  "  Harland  Slack,  you  have  had  a 
terrible  lesson.  Harland  Slack,  you  will  not  drink 
again ! "  Then  after  a  pause  in  a  different  voice, 
"  Now,  Slack  get  up !  You're  all  right  now.  Come !  " 

With  a  mighty  wrench  Harland,  at  his  bidding, 
cast  off  the  numbness  from  his  body,  the  incubus 
from  his  will,  and  staggering  to  his  feet  opened  his 
eyes. 

Before  him  stood  Dr.  Alaric  Randolph  holding  his 
hand  and  looking  searchingly  into  his  face. 

This  fact  recalled  to  him  his  awful  deed.  He 
understood  perfectly  that  he  had  committed  a 
murder.  He  knew  not  how,  or  why,  or  where. 
With  a  tremulous  look  about  him  he  burst  into  tears 
and  clung  for  protection  to  his  enigmatical  host. 

As  tenderly  as  a  hospital  nurse  Dr.  Randolph  led 
the  criminal  to  a  deep  chair  and  placed  him  in  it. 
"There,  there,  old  fellow.     It's  all  right.     You 


168  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

will  come  out  of  it  all  straight.  I'll  see  you 
through.  Trust  me.  There,  take  my  hand.  That 
will  help  you,  see  ?  " 

The  broken  man,  shuddering  from  weakness, 
clasped  the  sympathetic  hand  and  wrung  it.  Har- 
land  sat  still  a  long  while  with  closed  eyes.  The 
doctor  watched  him  professionally,  even  tenderly, 
at  times  anxiously. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  I'll  go  and  bring  you  a  demi- 
tasse.  It  will  set  you  on  your  feet." 

"  No,  no ! "  cried  Harland  in  terror,  "  don't  leave 
me.  I  can't  be  left  alone." 

"  But  only  to  the  next  room." 

The  patient's  hands  relaxed,  and  he  assented 
wearily.  When  the  coffee  came,  he  drank  a  little 
obediently. 

«  Now,  my  boy,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  what  under 
the  circumstances  seemed  to  Harland  a  ghastly 
cheerfulness,  « this  will  get  you  up  entirely.  When 
you  finish  it,  I  am  going  to  send  you  to  the  Club !  " 
At  the  mention  of  the  Club  Harland  began  to 
tremble. 

"  My  God,  Randolph !  I  can't  go  there.  I'll  be 
arrested."  He  glanced  apprehensively  at  the  outer 
door  as  if  expecting  a  policeman.  "  Don't  you  know," 
he  added  in  a  whisper,  '-what  I've  done  in  youi 
infernal  place  ?  " 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  169 

«  Nonsense !  "  replied  Randolph  lightly,  «  not  a 
soul  shall  know  you've  been  here.  She  deserved 
it.  I'll  take  all  the  blame.  Now  brace  up  and  be  a 
man.  Don't  be  nervous.  You're  feverish.  You 
need  a  tonic  before  you  start.  What'll  you  drink  ?  " 

Harland  looked  at  his  host  in  a  state  divided 
between  dementia  and  moral  nausea.  What  manner 
of  man  was  this  American  Doctor  with  his  accursed 
Parisian  education  ? 

"  I  am  horribly  thirsty,"  he  admitted :  "  I  will 
take  a  glass  of  water,  thank  you." 

He  said  this  without  surprise  at  himself,  natu 
rally  and  quite  sincerely.  He  longed  for  it.  It  was 
the  first  request  of  the  kind  he  had  made  for  years. 
Randolph  handed  the  water  to  him  and  watched 
him  narrowly.  Harland  held  up  the  glass  to  the 
light  with  a  connoisseur's  eye,  smiled  with  satisfac 
tion,  and  took  the  clear  draught  down  at  one 
swallow. 

«  Ah !  "  he  said  :  "  that  is  good.  I  feel  better  now. 
Now  swear  that  you  will  save  me.  Don't  give  me 
up.  Hide  me  somehow.  It  happened  in  your 
house,  you  know." 

"  Give  yourself  no  concern,"  said  the  Doctor  easily. 

"  Why,  man,"  blazed  Harland  Slack,  "  don't  you 
know  that  I've  murdered  somebody?  It  was  a 


170  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

woman.  I've  murdered  that  woman  you  keep  here. 
I  am  a  murderer." 

"  Your  Club  is  only  two  blocks  off,"  answered  the 
physician  with  astonishing  indifference ;  "  It  will 
do  you  good  to  walk  there.  Trust  me.  Don't  worry 
over  it.  Let  me  feel  your  hand.  It's  moist  and 
soft.  No  fever;  that's  good.  When  you  step  foot 
into  the  Club  you  will  never  think  of  the  affair  again." 
.The  Doctor  quietly  gave  the  criminal  his  hat  and 
coat,  put  a  cane  into  his  hand,  and  conducted  him  to 
the  door. 

"  Go ! "  he  said,  "  go  directly  to  your  Club  as 
usual.  As  a  physician  I  order  it.  It  is  the  best 
thing  you  can  do." 

Mutely  the  trembling  man  obeyed,  and  thus  the 
two  actors  in  this  awful  evening  parted ;  so,  perhaps, 
criminal  and  accomplice  are  wont  to  part  in  the 
extremity  of  great  emergencies,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened  out  of  the  moral  order  of  things. 

Ilarland  Slack  walked  into  his  fashionable  Club 
slowly.  As  he  did  so,  whether  by  reason  of  the 
familiar  atmosphere,  or  the  contrast  to  the  scene 
from  which  he  had  escaped,  he  did  not  stop  to  con 
sider,  his  crime  dropped  IVom  his  memory  like  the 
burden  from  Christian's  back.  He  handed  his 
outer  garments  to  the  liveried  boy,  and,  as  was  his 
wont,  turned  towards  the  poker  and  billiard  rooms 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  171 

There  were  the  vuual  number  of  useless  gambling 
and  playing  men  uselessly  drinking.  Harland  Slack 
was  greeted  in  the  usual  boisterous  manner. 

"  Hilloa !  What'll  you  take  ?  Here,  boy,  bring 
the  same  old  stuff  to  Mr.  Slack." 

The  gossip  proceeded,  the  chips  rattled,  the  balls 
clicked,  the  smoke  mounted,  the  liquors  gurgled,  and 
the  regular  Club  life  proceeded. 

The  friend  of  his  appointment  now  joined  him. 

"  By  _  _!  You  look  as  white  as  that  foam  there. 
You  need  a  nerve  restorer.  You  haven't  been  idiot 
enough  to  buck  the  tiger  again,  have  you  ?  What 
will  you  take?" 

"  No,"  said  Harland  slowly.  "  I  have  not  gambled." 
He  shook  his  head  with  a  strange  expression.  He  did 
not  understand.  The  Club  seemed  different  to  him. 
It  was  not  as  entrancing  or  as  necessary  as  usual. 
The  odor  of  stale  liquor  and  of  staler  tobacco  nau 
seated  him.  Still,  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that  this 
was  an  unusual  state  of  mind  for  him  to  be  in. 

The  attendant  placed  the  chased  tray  upon  the 
table.  His  friend  took  the  decanter  from  the  boy 
and  poured  out  the  brown  liquid  into  the  delicate 
glasses.  He  then  offered  one  to  Harland  and  held 
up  his  own  in  token  of  courtesy. 


172  A  TERRIBLE  EVENING. 

"  Well,  here's  to  luck,"  lie  said,  and  nodded  to 
Harlancl.  llarland  nodded  in  return.  His  nerves 
twitched  him.  What  was  this  new  sensation  of 
repugnance?  lie  lifted  his  glass  higher  to  his 
mouth.  He  tried  to  put  it  to  his  lips.  It  would  not 
go.  lie  tried  again.  His  arm  refused  him  service. 
But  the  fumes  of  this  familiar  liquor  mounted  to 
his  nostrils,  which  dilated  with  horror.  What  was 
this  terrible  thing  which  he  was  asked  to  drink? 
Never  had  he  felt  such  physical  repulsion.  A 
shudder  of  disgust  shook  him.  With  a  curse  he 
dashed  the  glass  to  the  floor,  and  glared  suspi 
ciously  upon  his  companion. 

"  How  dare  you  ask  me  to  drink  this  stuff  ?  "  His 
voice  rang  with  passion.  "  I  loathe  it !  I  cannot 
stand  it.  Let  me  go.  This  is  an  infernal  den,  and 
I  will  get  out !  " 

The  men  around  jumped  up  and  held  him.  They 
thought  that  D.  T.  had  come  at  last. 

"  Somebody  send  for  the  nearest  expert,"  said  his 
nearest  friend. 

This  inebriate's  first  resistance  to  his  dipsomania 
was  interpreted  darkly,  with  sundry  shrugs  and 
winks  and  gestures. 

"  It  is  too  devilish  bad,"  said  his  companion, 
"  but  I  knew  it  would  happen  some  day." 


A  TERRIBLE  EVENING.  173 

They  called  a  cab  and  put  him  in  and  sent  him 
home.  But  he  gave  no  further  evidence  of  insanity. 
His  case  became  a  seven  days'  gossip  and  warning 
behind  the  bulging  windows  of  the  great  Club. 

Harland  Slack  went  straightway  to  Colorado,  and 
came  back  a  man.  He  went  into  law,  and  suc 
ceeded.  It  is  well  known  that  he  does  not  drink. 
The  committee  elected  a  new  heir  to  damnation  in 
llarland's  place  at  the  Club. 

At  the  end  of  an  address  delivered  a  year  after 
ward  before  a  close  medical  meeting  Dr.  Alaric 
Kandolph  said : 

"  A  bit  of  bright,  cut  glass,  and  a  healthy  will,  and 
the  proportional  training  did  this  thing.  I  have 
not  given  the  man's  name,  not  only  on  account  of  his 
high  social  standing  and  marked  mental  ability,  but 
also  because  he  himself  is  still  ignorant  of  the  facts. 
I  have  no  fear  of  a  relapse.  He  has  forgotten  that 
he  ever  believed  himself  to  have  murdered  a  woman 
who  never  existed.  But  he  has  not  forgotten  that 
he  no  longer  drinks.  This  case  is  now  a  tested 
cure.  My  first  successful  experiment  in  this  great, 
unknown  field,  rests  upon  its  facts.  Alcoholism  is 
probably  as  serious  an  illustration  as  we  could  pre 
sent.  The  hypnotic  therapeutics  have  come  to  stay.'* 


SCUD. 


SCUD. 


IT  was  the  morning  after  my  arrival.  I  had  just 
come,  jaded  from  examination  papers,  agued  with 
the  incessant  ring  of  orations,  abhorrent  of  the  rus 
tle  of  white  tarlatans,  distrustful  of  the  future  atti 
tude  of  trustees,  and  utterly  wilted  from  the  effect 
of  a  country  academy  exhibition  held  in  the  heat  of 
June  in  the  torridest  of  Western  towns.  I  had 
never  seen  the  ocean,  and  before  my  window  the 
glorious  old  Atlantic  heaved  solemnly.  Its  inter 
mittent  swash  upon  the  rocks  sent  peace  into  my 
soul.  I  found  myself  near  enough  even  to  throw 
something  into  the  water.  The  longing  to  commu 
nicate  with  this  new  friend,  dreamed  of  for  so  many 
inland  years,  overpowered  me.  A  box.  of  buttons 
was  all  I  had,  and  I  leaned  far  out  into  the  air,  pun 
gent  with  a  mixture  of  fish  and  kelp,  and  cast  into 
the  deep  these  feminine  necessities,  one  by  one.  Now 


178  SCUD. 

a  tiny  disk  of  mother-of-pearl  would  glance  on  the 
float  and  bounce  off  into  a  gray  ripple ;  and  then  a 
bit  of  jet  would  clatter  on  the  red  granite  rocks,  and 
be  swallowed  by  a  lapping  wavelet  that  seemed  to 
rise  on  purpose  for  this  strange  offering.  Too  soon 
the  box  was  emptied  of  its  contents ;  then  there 
came  a  mad  desire  to  throw  cologne,  slices,  satchel, 
anything,  everything,  myself,  from  the  second-story 
window  into  this  mysterious,  beckoning,  repelling 
Atlantic  tide  beneath  me.  Leaning  on  the  sill,  with 
my  whole  soul  absorbed  in  this  new  Nirvana,  I 
was  suddenly  and  yet  not  unpleasantly  aroused  by 
a  strident  yell : 

"  Hellow,  Scud !    Wha'che  got  this  mornm'  ?  " 
"  Oh,  no-thin',  only  twenty- six  little  'uns,  an'  a 
couple  bucket  o'  bait." 

The  answer  came  back  in  a  deep,  orotund,  sing 
song  voice.  It  was  the  natural  intoning  of  the  man 
of  the  sea.  Two  boats  shot  from  under  a  rocky 
headland  a  few  hundred  yards  before  me  to  the  left. 
One  of  the  boats  made  fast  to  some  black  corks  that 
formed  a  huge  rectangle  in  the  water,  and  two  men 
began  pulling  in  a  net.  The  one  in  the  other  boat, 
who  answered  to  the  name  of  Scud,  stopped  rowing 
for  a  moment,  exchanged  a  word  or  two,  and  laughed 
aloud,  then  cast  a  critical  look  at  the  sun's  altitude, 


SCUD.  179 

and  pulled  lazily  away.  When  he  was  at  some  dis 
tance,  he  rested  on  his  oars,  and  hilloaed  with  that 
penetrating  sea  cry  : 

"I  hope  you'll  get  two  barr'l.  I  guess  thar's 
'nough  to  go  all  round." 

That  undulatory  cadence  is  entirely  lacking  in 
landsmen's  tones.  Still  this  was  an  extraordinarily 
joyous  voice,  as  if  the  life  of  a  fisherman  were  a 
dream  without  a  care  or  a  struggle.  But  Scud  and 
his  queer, green  boat  disappeared  behind  the  jagged 
outline  of  the  rocks,  and  I  turned  at  the  sound  of 
the  first  bell  to  dress  for  breakfast. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  your  room?  I  hope  that 
the  fishermen  didn't  wake  you  up  too  early." 

My  cousin  offered  me  some  smoking  flakes  of  fish, 
new  to  my  limited  experience.  This,  he  said,  was 
inland  hake,  and  was  caught  that  morning  in  Scud's 
trap.  Now,  although  I  was  hitherto  ignorant  of  this 
delicious  fish  with  its  paradoxical  cognomen,  I  felt 
that  Scud  and  I  were  already  friends ;  and  gravely 
informed  my  host  that  Scud  had  caught  twenty-six 
little  ones  that  morning.  This  piece  of  information 
was  immediately  greeted  with  impertinent  hilarity. 

"  So  Scud  woke  you  up  ?  "  said  my  cousin.  "  He's 
always  doing  that.  There  was  one  nervous  boarder 
here.  She  threatened  to  have  him  arrested  for 


180  SCUD. 

breaking  the  peace.     But  you  might  as  well  arrest  a 

fog-whistle." 

"  Does  he  always  get  up  as  early  in  the  morning  ?  " 
I  asked,  apprehensively.  "  He  must  be  a  very  ener 
getic  person.  Do  tell  me  about  it.  What  are  '  little 
'mis'?" 

I  must  confess  to  a  degree  of  perplexity  when  the 
the  whole  family  burst  into  further  roars  of  laughter 
at  my  simple  question. 

«  Scud  energetic  ?  Why,  he  is  the  easiest,  the  slow 
est,  the  sleepiest,  the  most  lovable,  good-natured 
fellow  on  the  whole  coast.  He  makes  the  surest 
and  perhaps  the  best  living  of  any  of  the  fishermen 
around  here.  If  he  didn't  get  up  early  he  wouldn't 
do  even  that.  As  it  is,  Salt  does  most  of  the  work. 
Salt  is  his  oldest  boy."  explained  my  cousin. 

"  I  am  sure  Scud  needs  all  he  can  make,"  inter 
rupted  Mabel  (she  is  my  cousin's  wife),  «  with  his 
dozen  children  and  a  wife  to  support,  and  only  one 
trap  to  do  it  on." 

"  For  my  part,"  interposed  the  oldest  daughter, 
with  a  pert  motion  of  her  head,  "  I  am  tired  to  death 
having  to  save  clothes  for  that^-  You  needn't  look 
so  shocked,  mamma.  Yes,  I  am.  It's  always  'Take 
care  of  that  petticoat ;  Betty  can  use  it ; '  or,  '  That 
dress  can  be  turned  and  made  over  nicely  for  the 


SCUD.  181 

twins.'  I  declare  I  don't  get  a  new  dress  but  the 
whole  Scud  family  troop  over  and  inspect  it,  and 
criticise  it,  and  quarrel  over  it,  and  gloat  over  it 
the  first  day  I  wear  it.  I  caught  two  of  their 
boys  fighting  over  which  of  them  should  have 
Reginald's  summer  ulster  when  he  was  done  with 
i£." 

"  I  shall  give  it  to  Tommy,"  observed  her  mother, 
in  an  absent,  comfortable  tone. 

After  breakfast  my  cousin  rowed  over  to  the  sta 
tion  ;  the  eldest  two  children  took  their  guest,  a  boy 
of  about  sixteen,  out  fishing ;  while  I  eagerly  accom 
panied  Mabel  across  the  rocks  and  fields  to  Scud's 
house — a  little  rented  hut,  hidden  and  sheltered 
from  the  east  winds  behind  a  huge  barrack  of  a 
boarding-house. 

How  clear  the  day !  How  warm  the  sun  !  How 
hospitable  this  forbidding,  granite- clad  North  Shore ! 
As  I  look  back  upon  that  memorable  morning  it 
seemed  as  if  the  bay  could  never  be  ruffled  by  any 
but  the  tenderest  breezes,  or  ite  bright  water  reflect 
any  but  the  dazzling  glare  of  the  hottest  sun. 
Clouds  hovered  over  us,  delicate  and  fleecy  as  the 
feathers  of  the  marabou,  and  white  and  curly  as  the 
feathers  of  the  ostrich.  They  radiated  from  a  centre 
in  translucent  films,  and  shot  out  monstrous  ciliated 


182  SCUD. 

fingers  like  a  fan.  Such  a  sky  was  never  seen  in 
my  part  of  the  country,  and  I  attributed  this  rav 
ishing  cloud  phenomenon  to  the  peculiar  influence 
of  the  sea,  being  too  ignorant  to  notice  that  these 
streamers  shot  out  from  the  west.  The  stillness  was 
intoxicating  after  the  scurry  of  the  school-room. 
And  now  even  the  water  made  no  ripples  on  the 
beach.  The  sea  was  motionless,  like  a  distilled 
elixir  in  a  serrated  alembic. 

We  stopped  before  a  low,  pitch-roofed  house  that 
looked  as  if  it  contained  three  rooms  at  most.  The 
yard  was  piled  up  with  wreckage  and  drift-wood. 
Who  ever  heard  of  a  fisherman  buying  kindling  ? 
Within  the  gate  four  children  were  playing  with 
twice  as  many  cats  and  kittens.  They  were  all 
fighting  like  animals  between  themselves  for  a  plate 
ful  of  scraps  of  fried  fish.  A  baby  would  grab  a 
piece  from  the  plate,  and  offer  the  remainder  to  a 
grave  tabby,  which  in  turn  distributed  it  to  her  off 
spring.  Then  the  kittens  and  «  humans  "  rolled  and 
scratched,  and  shrieked  and  scratched  again. 

"  Keep  yer  months  shet  out  there,  or  I'll  be  after 
ye  with  a  stick ! "  This  maternal  sentiment,  spoken 
in  a  loud  shrill  voice,  greeted  us  as  we  stepped  within 
the  gate. 

« It's  I,  Betty.    I  have  brought  you  a  little  some- 


SCUD.  183 

thing,  and  a  friend  who  wants  to  see  the  children.'1 

«  Dear  sakes  !  'tain't  you,  is  it  ?  "  The  shrill  voice 
was  now  modulated  in  an  entirely  different  tone. 
"  Ain't  I  glad  you've  come !  Step  right  in  and  set 
down.  No?  Then  I'll  be  out  and  see  ye  ez  soon  ez 
I've  tended  the  baby." 

"  Baby  !  "  I  gasped,  looking  at  the  four  fighting 
infants  at  my  feet,  none  of  whom  looked  over  thir 
teen  months.  "  Are  these  hers  too  ?  " 

"These  are  the  twins,"  answered  Mabel,  quite 
seriously.  "  They  call  them  '  the  twin.'  These  are 
the  two  sets,  just  a  year  apart.  The  baby  was  born 
a  month  ago.  The  baby  isn't  named.  Let  me  see  : 
these  are  Bessie  and  Maurie  and  Robbie  and 
Susie." 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  knew  better,"  protested  the 
mother,  in  a  grieved  voice.  "  Susie  is  in  the  house 
there.  That's  Bessie."  She  wiped  her  hands  on  her 
apron,  and  thrust  one  of  them  out  through  a  rent  in 
the  mosquito-netted  door.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  any  of 
her  friends.  Yes.  Good  morV.  The  children? 
Laws  sakes,  they're  round  the  house  like  pups  ! " 

The  face  was  remarkable  for  a  pair  of  brilliant 
black  eyes,  an  inheritance  of  Italian  ancestry.  She 
was  not  yet  middle-aged,  and  her  hair  had  turned 
prematurely  gray.  Her  hands  were  bony,  nervous 


184  SCUD. 

hands,  indicative  of  great  executive  capacity,  but 
the  incessant  work  had  left  them  trembling. 

"  Are  all  your  children  here  ?  "  I  asked,  not  know 
ing  what  else  to  say. 

"  Here's  four  of  'em.  Come  out  here,  you  in  there, 
an'  I'll  count  ye."  It  was  a  pitiful  sight  to  see  these 
five  plump,  rosy  youngsters  pass  in  review  before 
the  frail,  emaciated  mother. 

"  But  here  are  only  nine,"  I  ventured. 

"Salt's  missing,  mother,"  said  the  eldest  girl; 
"  he's  with  father  to  the  trap." 

"  So  he  is,  Kittie.  They've  rowed  round  the  cove 
with  what  they  ketched.  They'll  be  back  d'rectly." 

"  But  how  do  you  manage,  Mrs. — ah — Scud  ?  "  I 
asked.  I  am  afraid  there  was  a  slight  choke  in  my 
throat  as  I  spoke.  The  mother  cast  a  quick  look  at 
my  face,  and  shoving  her  children  into  the  house, 
one  by  one,  said : 

"  Now  go,  Kittie ;  finish  the  dishes.  You,  Mamie, 
put  the  baby  kearfully  in  the  box.  What  did  you 
hit  Jim  for,  Sammy  ?  Let  me  ketch  you  a-hitten 
your  little  brother  agin  an'  I'll  spank  you.  Now  get 
in  the  house,  all  of  ye.  You  see,  miss,"  turning  to 
me,  "  we  manage  somehow.  If  it  wa'n't  fur  her,  we'd 
give  up.  There's  that  boy  Jim,  he  took  to  swearing 
this  spring.  I  declare  it  was  jess  awful  to  hear  him 


SCUD.  185 

go  on.  I  spanked  him,  and  Scud  he  switched  him, 
but  it  wa'n't  to  no  use.  That  hoy  talked  jess  scan- 
cl'lous,  till  your  cousin  here,  miss,  she  heerd  him  one 
mornin',  an'  took  a  white  powder  an'  put  a  little  on 
his  tongue.  It  made  Jim  powerful  sick.  And,  says 
she,  'If  I  hear  you  swearin'  agin  I'll  pizen  ye;  an' 
you'll  die  in  a  minute  an'  never  see  God,'  and  I  de 
clare  to  goodness  he  was  so  skeared  that  I  hain't 
heerd  him  swear  since.  There's  Scud.  Where's 
Salt,  pa?  Come  here  an'  speak  to  the  ladies.  She's 
brought  ye  some  ties." 

"  Salt's  makin'the  boat  fast,"  began  Scud,  nodding 
with  inimitable  ease  to  his  visitors.  "I'm  afraid 
ther's  goin'  to  be— 

Scud  stopped  short  in  open-mouthed  pleasure 
when  he  saw  a  couple  of  brilliant  red  and  blue  ties 
dangling  from  Betty's  hand.  He  had  come  up  the 
rocky  path,  whistling  like  a  boy,  with  every  line  and 
pucker  in  his  face  on  a  broad  smile.  If  Lavater  had 
seen  this  fisherman's  physiognomy  he  would  have 
pronounced  it  indicative  of  incomparable  good  nat 
ure.  Indeed,  Scud's  good  nature  went  so  far  at 
times  as  to  be  incomparably  inadequate  to  the  de 
mands  of  existence.  If  he  happened  to  go  for  weeks 
without  catching  so  much  as  a  sculpin  in  his  net, 
and  the  starvation  of  his  youngsters  stared  him  in 


186  SCUD. 

the  face,  he  showed  none  of  the  common  symptoms 
of  discouragement,  such  as  swearing,  drinking,  beat 
ing  his  wife,  or  cursing  his  luck.  He  only  whistled 
the  blither,  ran  up  bills  at  the  butcher's  and  grocer's 
with  irresistible  faith,  borrowed  his  "  chaws  "  of  his 
luckier  mates,  and  laughed  as  if  poverty  were  an 
excellent  joke  that  Providence  was  cracking  at  him. 
Why  shouldn't  he  appreciate  it,  even  if  it  were  at 
his  own  expense. 

Scud  was  born  "  easy."  Who  could  blame  him  ? 
He  gave  up  his  lobster-pots  because  it  took  too  much 
time  to  dry  them  and  keep  them  in  repair,  and  it 
was  too  cold  and  dangerous  hauling  them  hi  stormy 
weather  off  the  rocks.  Scud  found  it  too  trouble 
some  to  underrun  his  trap  more  than  twice  a- day— 
once  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  then  at  six  o'clock 
at  night.  Even  when  the  mackerel  or  the  herring 
struck,  and  every  man  who  had  a  trap  hovered  over 
it  night  and  day  to  keep  the  catch  from  mysteriously 
immaterializing,  as  well  as  to  gather  it  in,  Scud  was 
satisfied  with  his  diurnal  visits.  He  "  wa'n't  a-goin' 
to  keep  a-runnin'  to  see  the  fish  swim  in.  If  they 
were  fool  'nough  to  go  in  the  trap,  they  could  stay 
there  till  he  underrun  an'  bailed  'em  out."  His 
methods  of  gaining  a  livelihood  were  unique  on  the 
coast;  yet  it  was  Scud  who  "stocked"  eight  hun- 


SCUD.  187 

dred  and  fifty  dollars  that  summer  clean,  two  hun 
dred  dollars  above  any  one  else  in  the  harbor.  It 
was  the  saying  among  some  of  the  jealous  fishermen 
in  the  cove,  who  were  not  blessed  with  two  pairs  of 
twins,  that  "  nobody  'arned  so  easy  a  livin'  as  Scud 
without  doin'  no  work."  But  these  indistinct  mur 
murs  never  stimulated  Scud  nor  impaired  his  good 
nature.  Indeed,  Scud  was  the  happiest  man  that 
ever  lived.  What  a  dancing,  laughing  eye!  What 
a  catalogue  of  joys  therein !  What  contagious,  hope 
ful  humor !  What  irrepressible  buoyancy  of  spirits  ! 
Who  could  help  loving  Scud,  as  one  loves  a  huge, 
long-coated  St.  Bernard  dog?  Scud  was  ths  laugh 
ing,  joyous,  piping  Pan  of  the  ocean.  He  smoked 
not,  neither  did  he  drink.  He  had  no  vices  that 
debased  him.  Chewing  is  not  a  vice  for  a  fisher 
man.  But  he  did  have  a  curious  taste  for  candy. 
Xo  present  pleased  him  so  much  as  a  half  a  pound  of 
caramels  or  of  sugar-coated  nuts.  It  was  the  sweet 
animal  nature  instinctively  laying  hold  of  sweets. 

Scud's  "  easiness  "  was  unmitigated — at  times  it 
was  exasperating ;  but  this  made  him  all  the  fatter, 
the  jollier,  the  more  companionable  ;  and  as  it  suc 
ceeded  so  well,  why  not  ?  Summer  boarders  were 
appreciative  of  Scud.  He  lived  upon  them.  Twins  ? 
— they  did  it.  Is  was  a  -dime  show,  and  the  money 
was  paid. 


188  SCUD. 

Two  sets  of  authentic  twins  !  It  was  enough  to 
drain  a  woman's  heart  of  sympathy,  a  woman's  pocket 
of  money ;  and  the  summer  boarders  were  mostly 
women — married  women,  with  husbands  sweating 
in  the  city  to  support  them ;  single  women,  school 
teachers  and  that  sort. 

But  Scud  stood  looking  at  the  ties.  He  seldom 
bought  clothes,  any  more  than  he  purchased  fire 
wood  or  paid  for  his  fish.  They  came  to  him.  Here 
was  a  pair  of  trousers  that  was  once  a  bishop's. 
That  coat  and  vest  were  the  velveteen  relics  of  a 
posing  artist.  The  cap  was  a  yachtsman's  gift,  and 
the  neckties  came  as  a  matter  of  course.  Yet  Scud 
never  begged.  And  once  when  he  caught  one  of  his 
four-year-old  boys  insinuating  to  a  summer  boarder, 
with  outstretched  palm,  that  he  would  like  a  penny, 
Scud  thrashed  him  within  a  centimeter  of  his  life. 
New  England  fishermen  will  take  a  gift  as  a  sort  of 
neighborly  accommodation  to  you ;  but  he'll  starve 
before  he  will  ask  you  for  it. 

"  Are  them  fur  me  ?  "  (Scud  was  always  surprised 
at  such  a  crisis.)  "  Thank  ye,  ma'am.  Ain't  them 
showy  ?  I  guess  they'll  skeer  the  mac'rel  off  the 
coast." 

"  I  wanted  you  to  take  me  out  sailing  this  morn 
ing,  Mr.  Scud,"  I  began,  after  a  formal  introduction. 


SCUD.  189 

Scud  looked  somewhat  gratified  with  the  prefix  to 
his  name,  and  regarded  me  with  interest.  To  take 
boarders  out  sailing  at  the  rate  of  seventy-five  cents 
an  hour  was  the  kind  of  work  he  would  do. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  But  I'm  'fraid  it'll  be  a  little  fresh 
to-day,  if  ye  hain't  used  to  sailin'."  lie  jerked  his 
head  to  the  westward.  "  Salt  is  a  makin'  the  dory 
fast  with  a  new  haulm'- line,  ma'am.  I  guess  we'll 
have  a  squall  pretty  soon." 

We  followed  Scud's  gesture  and  looked.  A  squall 
a  day  like  this  ?  The  Avhite  streamers  had  vanished, 
and  above  us  was  dark,  unfathomable  blue.  But  on 
the  western  horizon,  stretching  far  to  the  south,  a 
black  bank  had  arisen.  No  cloud  in  the  physical 
geography  was  ever  sketched  blacker.  It  had  come 
up  as  stealthily  as  a  Zulu  warrior.  It  was  the  hue 
of  unpolished  iron.  It  had  a  faint  reddish  tint.  Its 
outline  was  as  clear  cut  as  a  cameo.  It  sent  ahead 
here  and  there  jagged  tentacles,  broad  at  the  base 
and  fine  at  the  tip,  that  advanced,  dissolved,  and  re 
appeared  again  with  significant  rapidity.  The  ocean 
had  suddenly  grown  lethargic.  It  seemed  unable  to 
reflect  the  sun  that  still  shone.  It  became  like  a 
platter  of  tarnished  silver. .  As  we  looked,  the  sight 
rapidly  grew  uglier. 

Now  my  cousin  Mabel  seemed  hypnotized  by  it. 


190  SCUD. 

She  stood  for  a  few  minutes  with  her  hands  hang 
ing  at  her  sides ;  her  delicate  jaw  dropped.  Sud 
denly  she  pulled  herself  together,  and  whispered : 
"  It  is  horrible  !  It  is  awful !  "  Then,  as  if  seized 
with  the  full  import  of  the  scene,  she  cried  aloud, 
"  My  children  !  They  are  out  fishing  in  a  sail-boat ! 
My  children!'''  She  began  to  run  towards  the  shore 
leaving  us  all  staring  after  her. 

My  nautical  sense  was  not  as  highly  trained  as 
Mabel's,  but  I  thought  the  sight  terrifying  and  fine. 
It  was  part  of  the  Eastern  culture  towards  the  edu 
cation  of  the  Western  girl.  But  seeing  Scud  look 
sober — I  had  the  impression  that  it  was  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life — I  pleaded  : 

"  Do  come  too,  Scud.  Is  it  so  bad  ?  Won't  it 
blow  over  ?  " 

"  It's  goin'  to  be  as  bad  as  I  ever  seed  in  these 
parts,  miss.  I'll  do  what  I  can.  'Twon't  be  much, 
I'll  bet." 

I  ran  down  to  the  house,  followed  by  Scud  at  a 
moderate  walk.  Scud  never  ran.  Would  he  have 
run  for  the  drowning  ?  I  doubted  it. 

The  clouds  had  arisen  with  terrible  velocity. 
They  coursed  over  the  bare  sky  like  a  black  bull 
with  horns  down.  White  cirrhus  clouds  now  darted 
out  here  and  there  ahead,  like  fluttering  standards 


SCUD.  191 

of  warning.  And  now  the  sun  was  gored  to  death. 
The  black  bank  advanced  in  one  wide  line.  Black 
ness  had  fallen  everywhere.  Anxiety  was  visible  in 
every  form  of  nature — in  the  cries  of  the  birds,  the 
skulking  of  the  dogs,  the  blanched  faces  of  the 
boarders,  the  attention  of  the  fishermen. 

In  the  British  navy,  when  any  terrible  and  sud 
den  disaster  occurs  on  a  man-of-war,  such  as  the 
bursting  of  a  gun,  a  collision,  or  striking  upon  the 
rocks,  the  bugler  sound.?,  what  is  known  as  "the 
still."  On  hearing  it  every  man  aboard  comes  to  a 
stand-still.  This  momentary  pause  enables  each  to 
collect  his  nerves  to  inset  tli3  summons  of  the  shock. 
Nature  was  now  commanding  "  the  still  "  ;  but  tha 
order  cams  through  the  eyes.  No  sound  was  as  yet 
heard.  The  sea,  the  air,  sentient  life,  all  souls,  held 
their  breath  before  the  shock  that  must  come.  Men 
collected  along  the  coast  to  meet  the  threatened 
tornado.  By  that  subtle  force  which  sensitive  or 
ganisms  will  recognize,  be  it  called  telepathy  or  psy 
chic  power  or  magnetism,  I  knew,  ignorant  as  I  was, 
that  nature  was  silently  preparing  for  a  terrific 
struggle. 

When  Scud  and  I  joined  Mabel  on  the  rocks  in 
front  of  her  house  we  found  her  wringing  her  hands, 
sobbing  and  crying  for  help.  It  seemed  that  her 


102  SCUD. 

two  children,  who  had  gone  out  fishing  with  their 
city  guest,  were  in  a  sail-boat.  This  was  manage  Ml 
hy  a  boy  about  their  age — none  of  them  were  over 
sixteen.  But  the  lad  who  sailed  the  little  boat 
was  a  fisherman's  son.  lie  was  considered  very  ex 
pert,  and  had  broad  experience  from  his  babyhood  up. 
But  this  fact  did  not  soothe  the  mother.  Appalled 
by  the  color  and  the  swiftness  of  the  clouds,  and  the 
ominous  import  to  the  safety  of  the  little  sail-boat, 
we  scanned  the  harbor  and  the  coast ;  but  no  boat 
answering  to  the  description  was  in  sight.  Scud 
tried  to  comfort  the  mother  in  his  shaggy  way. 
"  The  b'ys  hev  sailed  to  the  inner  cove,  ma'am. 
They's  ashore  by  this  time,  I'll  bet." 

As  Scud  spoke,  the  large  fishing-schooners,  leav 
ing  and  entering  the  broad  harbor  shot,  one  after 
the  other,  as  if  by  mutual  impulse,  into  the  direc 
tion  of  the  clouds,  into  the  west,  and  dropped  sails 
and  anchors  "with  incredible  rapidity.  Far  out  to 
sea  vessels  were  now  seen  to  ride  with  bare  poles ; 
it  was  evident  that  they  had  anticipated  a  formid 
able  blow.  We  stood  on  a  bend  in  the  shore,  and 
the  broad  bay  lay  between  us  and  the  rising  storm. 
The  rocky  coast  stood  forth  in  a  long,  broken  out 
line  opposite  to  us,  far  down  towards  Great  Bra 
bant.  The  open  Atlantic  spread  before  us  to  the 


SCUD.  193 

south-west.  And  now  lightnings  flashed  in  angry 
sheets.  The  sea  took  to  itself  suddenly  a  peculiar 
greenish  tinge.  There  were  heard  distant  bellow- 
ings.  We  strained  our  eyes  for  the  boys.  Where 
were  they?  Where  were  they?  Two  miles  out 
ships  began  to  rock  fearfully. 

"  They've  cotched  it !  "  shouted  Scud.  "  Here  it 
comes.  Look  out,  leddies ! " 

Driven  by  earth's  mightiest,  most  implacable,  most 
invisible  force,  a  line  of  foam  dashed  across  the  bay. 
Spray  from  the  water  twenty  feet  below  struck  us 
in  the  face  simultaneously  with  the  wind.  The 
white  squall  had  burst  upon  us.  I  dragged  my  poor 
cousin  with  me  to  the  piazza,  into  the  house,  which 
shuddered  through  all  its  frame  and  would  have 
fallen  had  it  not,  after  the  fashion  of  this  bleak 
shore,  been  chained  to  the  rocks. 

Now  Scud  staid  outside.  It  did  not  seem  clear 
at  first  why.  Pretty  soon  we  saw  him  trying  to 
pull  the  tender  upon  the  float,  that  was  clean 
washed  by  every  wave. 

Then  came  the  first  lull.  The  mother  ran  out 
into  it  wildly.  The  water  was  green  and  white. 
Two  coasters  and  a  large  yacht  were  running  in 
for  shelter  without  a  stitch  of  canvas.  They  were 

making  straight  for  the  inner  harbor. 

13 


194  SCUD. 

"  Look  !  Come  here  !  Look  !  What's  that  boat  ? 
See  !  Way  out  there  beyond  the  island  !  My  God ! 
It's  my  children  !  " 

A  half-mile  or  more  away,  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
squall,  a  little  boat  with  full  sail  set  was  staggering 
unto  death.  Language  cannot  hint  at  the  horror  in 
the  mother's  face.  She  had  made  her  summer's 
home  for  fifteen  years  within  a  shell's  throw  of  the 
sea,  and  she  knew  perfectly  well  what  this  situation 
meant.  No  one  could  have  undeceived  her,  and  no 
one  tried.  She  stood  for  a  moment  staring  straight 
ahead,  stretched  out  her  arms,  swayed,  and  fell. 
She  was  one  of  the  fainting  kind,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  about  it.  We  carried  her  in 
and  laid  her  down.  It  was  my  impulse  to  trust  her 
to  her  terrified  servants.  I  was  too  terrified  myself 
to  know  whether  I  was  right  or  wrong.  Irresistibly 
compelled,  I  rushed  out  of  doors  again,  and  appealed 
(with  feminine  instinct,  I  suppose)  to  the  only 
man,  within  reach.  Scud  responded  quickly  enough. 

"  Yes  ;  that's  them ! "  lie  pitched  his  orotund 
voice  upon  me  as  if  he  were  giving  a  command  in  a 
gale  at  sea. 

Men  now  began  to  gesticulate  wildly  at  the  ill- 
fated  boat  from  the  rocks,  as  if  that  could  help  the 
matter. 


SCUD.  195 

"  Drop  that  mains'l,  you fools,  or  you'll  go  to 

— !  "     The  voices  struck  me  like  a  volley  of  bul 


lets,  but  they  could  not  have  penetrated  ten  feet  to 
windward. 

"  Scud !  "  I  cried.     "  Help !  Save  them,  Scud  !  " 

"  T  can't  do  nothing,"  he  howled  in  my  ear.  "  No 
one  can't.  You  can't  row  in  them  breakers." 

By  this  time  the  wind  had  increased  its  force. 
The  sail-boat  was  near  enough  for  one  to  see  the 
desperate  attempts  the  boyish  skipper  made  to  lower 
the  sail.  One  of  the  halyards  had  become  caught. 
The  boy  made  wild  rushes  to  the  mast.  Then  the 
boat  would  rock  and  fly  around.  To  save  her  the  lad 
darted  back  to  the  helm  just  in  time.  This  sickening 
struggle  against  a  knot  was  repeated  several  times. 
On  the  bottom  the  three  passengers  lay  inert  with 
terror.  A  twenty-foot  boat  with  full  sail,  when  hun 
dred-ton  schooners  trembled  under  bare  poles  !  Even 
my  inexperience  grasped  the  situation. 

"  He's  doing  all-fired  well,  but  he  can't  last  no 
longer  if  that — He'll  be  druv  on  the  rocks !  They'll 
be  druv  to !  " 

The  rocks  were  now  lined  with  men  commenting 
in  an  apathetic  way  upon  the  tragedy  enacting  be 
fore  their  eyes. 

"  Why  don't  they  do  something  ?  "     In  my  igno- 


196  SCUD. 

ranee  of  the  curious  stolidity  which  falls  upon  the 
shore  in  face  of  danger  upon  the  sea,  I  stood  shriek 
ing  :  "  Why  doesn't  somebody  go  ?  Why  don't  you 
men  do  something  f  " 

The  fishermen  and  the  summer  people  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes,  but  no  man  answered  a 
word. 

"  Can't  you  help  them  ?  "  I  pleaded  with  another 
weather-beaten  fisherman. 

"  Can't  be  done,  or  I'd  do  it." 

"  I  came  down  to  see  them  capsize,  an'  I  guess 
they'll  go,"  said  a  gruff  voice. 

But  Scud  gave  me  a  long  look.  lie  stood  quite 
silent.  An  expression  of  rare  gravity  was  on  his 
joyous  face.  He  glanced  apprehensively  from  the 
boat  to  the  house. 

"  SJte  can't,  Scud ;  she's  fainted.  There  isn't  any 
body  but  me.  I've  got  to  do  something.  The  chil 
dren  have  got  to  be  saved,  Scud  !  "  The  Western 
girl  shook  him  by  the  arm.  Her  very  ignorance 
gave  a  force  to  her  appeal  that  intelligence  could 
not  have  supplied.  Had  I  understood  what  I  asked 
I  should  not  have  said  :  "  Scud,  won't  you  go?  They 
are  drowning.  See,  Scud  !  Go  !  " 

The  doomed  sail  was  beaten  here  and  there  in  the 
fierce  wind ;  the  jib  was  blown  to  tatters,  The  boat 


SCUD.  197 

took  in  water,  righted,  and  careened  with  every 
riotous  puff.  A  hundred  times  men  turned  their 
faces  away  and  women  shrieked,  expecting  it  to  go 
down.  A  hundred  times  repeated  miracle  protected 
the  helpless  boat. 

Scud  walked  slowly  down  the  heaving  gangway 
that  connected  the  rocks  with  the  float.  The  man 
who  came  down  to  see  the  boat  capsize  followed 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  He  balanced  him 
self  on  the  railing  with  his  elbows  as  the  gangway 
jumped  beneath  him. 

"What  yer  up  ter,  Scud?"  he  yelled  above  the 
tempest.  "They're  driftin'  on  yer  trap.  That'll 
fetch  'em." 

Scud  looked  up.  His  feet  were  washed  in  the 
water  that  flooded  the  float  at  every  surge.  To 
strike  the  trap  meant  instant  overturn.  To  become 
entangled  in  and  driven  on  to  the  meshes  of  the 
broad,  deep  net  meant  inevitable  death. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go.  Help  me  shove  the  dingy  off." 
So  spoke  Scud,  deliberately. 

"  You —  The  rest  of  the  expletive  was  lost  in 
the  gale.  The  breakers  made  sport  of  Scud,  and 
spat  at  him  with  their  white  tongues.  "  Your  chil- 
der  !  The  twins  !  Betty  !  "  thundered  his  friend. 

Scud  hurriedly  put  in  the  oar-locks.     As  he  bent. 


198  SCUD. 

the  wind  caught  his  cap  and  dashed  it  on  the  rocks. 
Scud  shook  his  brown  hair  to  liic  furies. 

"Ye  see!"  yelled  his  companion  significantly. 
"  Now  get  iii,  will  ye  ?  " 

"  Shet  up,  Steve  !  Gimme  them  oars.  Don't  ye 
see  Fmgoin'?  I  wish  I  hed  my  dory." 

A  murmur  of  applause  went  up  from  the  crowd  as 
the  fisherman  shoved  off.  The  light  tender  was 
twisted  about  and  all  but  cast  upon  the  cliffs  before 
he  could  gain  his  first  stroke. 

And  now  the  man  of  the  sea  set  his  weak  mouth 
into  petrified  resolve.  The  wind  and  the  water  at 
tacked  his  boat  like  assassins.  They  meant  to  kill. 
Scud  knew  this.  He  rowed  guardedly,  mistrustful 
of  a  cowardly  feint,  of  an  underhand  lunge.  The 
tender  quivered  beneath  each  dash  of  the  waves, 
each  onslaught  of  the  squall,  each  hurried  stroke  of 
the  oars.  Scud  rowed  warily,  lest  he  be  overturned 
and  buried  between  the  trough  and  the  height  of 
the  waves.  The  wind  howled  at  him.  The  bay 
showered  upon  him.  The  gale  clutched  him  and 
turned  him  about.  TIow  now  !  Whence  came  these 
muscles  of  steel  that  subdued  such  powers  arrayed 
against  lazy  Scud  ?  How  now  !  Whence  came  that 
indomitable  judgment  that  baffled  the  elements  at 
their  own  wildest  sport?  Fishermen  stared  from 


SCUD.  199 

the  shore  at  this  unparalleled  exhibition  of  skill,  cool 
ness,  courage  and  strength  from  /Scud. 

Then,  with  the  spite  of  which  only  a  white  squall 
is  capable,  it  thundered  against  Scud,  and  with  the 
animosity  of  which  only  the  Atlantic  Ocean  is  capa 
ble,  it  rose  upon  Scud  and  well-nigh  bore  him  under. 
Hope  is  easily  dashed  in  the  hearts  of  inert  specta 
tors,  but  Scud  did  not  falter.  The  crowd  stood  by 
commenting : 

"  Scud !  Tliet  Scud  ?  Poor  Betty  !  Poor  wid- 
der !  We'll  hev  ter  fish  him  up  ter-night.  Plucky 
fellow  !  Brave  deed !  That's  grit !  Thar's  skill ! 
Who'd  'a'  thought  it  ?  Scud  !  " 

But  Scud  the  "  easy,"  Scud  the  do -little,  Scud 
the  good-for-naught — Scud,  of  whom  nobody  ex 
pected  anything — comfortable,  self-indulgent  Scud, 
rowed  on  sturdily  straight  out  into  that  hell.  Could 
he  ever  overtake  the  boat  ?  How  was  it  possible  ? 
If  he  did  the  extra  weight  would  swamp  the  fancy 
tender,  built  only  to  carry  two  or  three  at  the  most 
in  light  weather.  How  could  he  get  one  in  ? 

"  Why  the didn't  he  take  his  dory  ?  "  asked 

an  old  man. 

"  How  in can  he  bring  her  up  with  a  haulm' - 

line  an'  git  in  from  the  rocks  ? "  answered  another 
contemptuously . 


200  SCUD. 

"  Scud  may  get  'em,"  ventured  an  expert,  "  but 
what'll  he  do  with  'em?" 

Now  Scud  had  rowed  beyond  the  net  to  the  right, 
in  order  to  bear  down  upon  it  the  easier. 

"  Thar  she  strikes  !  God  help  'em  !  "  Cries  came 
from  a  dozen  throats.  The  sail-boat  struck  against 
the  leader  of  the  net.  It  swung  broadside  to  the 
wind,  that  forced  it  over  and  under.  Agonized 
shrieks  were  borne  to  the  shore.  I  was  glad  that 
Mabel  was  a  fainting  woman. 

For  some  time  Scud's  wife  had  stood  apart  and 
looked  upon  the  scene.  Her  eyes  were  dry  and 
feverish.  She  did  not  talk.  She  hugged  a  baby  at 
her  breast  desperately.  Salt  held  a  pair  of  twins ; 
the  oldest  girl  another.  Children  sprawled  upon 
the  ground,  clinging  to  their  mother's  feet  and  dress. 
None  drew  near  or  spoke  to  this  pathetic  group. 
What  could  one  do  ?  What  word  could  one  say  ? 
The  storm  swayed  Betty  here  and  there.  Her  hair 
waved  in  the  hurricane.  She  had  long,  pretty  hair. 
Spray  drenched  her.  She  did  not  cry  out.  She 
stood  like  the  Niobe  of  the  sea.  She  looked  like  one 
expecting  the  fate  that  had  been  only  delayed.  An 
average  of  two  hundred  men  a  year  from  this  fish 
ing-town  are  swallowed  up  by  the  ocean  that  affords 
them  sustenance,  and  their  starving  widows  are  left 


SCUD.  201 

after  them.  Betty  was  only  one  of  a  thousand  of 
her  kind  who  stolidly  concealed  a  desolate  suspense. 
And  now  her  turn  had  come,  harder  than  the  rest, 
for  she  was  in  at  the  death. 

It  is  a  mystery  until  this  day  how  Scud  reached 
the  over-turned  sail-boat  as  he  did.  With  a  dory  his 
work  would  not  have  been  comparatively  easy  ;  bub 
with  a  thirteen-foot  yacht's  tender  it  was  super 
human.  The  two  girls  clinging  to  the  wreck  were 
lifted  bodily  into  the  boat.  Scud  was  quick  but 
cool,  and  imparted  perfect  confidence  to  the  water- 
sodden  children.  At  the  fisherman's  peremp 
tory  order,  the  two  boys  clung  to  each  side  of  the 
tender.  We  could  see  them  dragging  in  the  water ; 
it  was  the  only  way.  Scud  now  began  to  row 
before  the  storm. 

There  were  110  cheers  from  the  rocks.  Not  a  man 
of  them  stirred.  The  fishermen,  hardened  to  perils 
of  the  sea,  had  been  fascinated  by  this  exhibition  of 
cool-blooded  heroism  from  the  least  heroic  of  them  all. 

The  cockle-shell  dashed  madly  towards  the  shore. 

No  power  could  row  it  weighted  against  the  wind 
that  beat  upon  it  with  fitful  concentration.  Straight 
before  the  tender  was  a  little  beach  between  the 
rocks,  not  more  than  twenty  feet  wide,  but  this  was 
protected  at  its  entrance  by  a  line  of  reefs,  easily 


liOii  SCUD. 

passable  at  high  tide,  and  bare  at  low.  The  rollers 
broke  upon  most  of  these  rocks,  and  the  spume 
swirled  in  dirty  froth  upon  the  pebbly  beach.  Scud 
made  for  the  opening.  The  gale  drove  him  wildly 
along.  A  few  men  now  ran  to  the  beach  and  the 
outlying  rocks,  ready  to  do  the  possible  at  any  emer 
gency.  Would  Scud  pass  the  reef  or  not  ?  There 
was  not  time  to  answer  the  question.  The  boat 
rose  upon  a  huge  wave.  Foam  and  spray  enveloped 
it  from  view.  There  was  a  rumbling  cry  of  horror. 
There  was  a  dull  splintering  crash.  Fifty  men 
rushed  to  the  beach  and  lined  the  clift's.  The  boat 
had  struck  upon  the  last  rock.  As  the  wave  passed 
on,  the  terrible  sight  of  black  human  heads  appeared 
in  a  setting  of  white  foam. 

But  these  were  within  reach  almost.  These  could 
be  saved.  Ah!  Men  wade  in,  somehow,  anyhow, 
forming  aline,  and  pass  one  to  shore.  Saved !  And 
then  another.  Thank  God  !  Here  comes  the  third 
on  that  wave !  Grasp  that  dress !  Tenderly,  it  is 
a  girl.  All  here  !  All  saved ! 

But  where  is  Scud  ?  Oh,  but  he  can  swim.  He  is 
strong  and  used  to  chilling  water  and  fierce  waves. 
The  helpless  children  safe,  and  Scud  gone  ?  Im 
possible  !  Incredible  !  Too  horrible  ! 

Involuntarily  one  man  and  then  another  turned 


SCUD.  203 

to  look  at  the  widow  and  the  orphans,  and  then  they 
turned  and  cursed  the  sea  aloud. 

At  this  noment  a  dark  little  figure  shot  past 
them  all,  by  the  bewildered  man,  and  dashed  with  a 
shriek  into  the  foam.  What  did  she  do  ?  How  did 
she  do  it?  What  could  be  done?  A  woman — a 
little  woman — her  baby  only  one  month  old — Betty  ! 
She  caught  the  sinking  hand,  the  drowning  head 
— she  never  knew  how.  A  dozen  men  plunged  in 
now.  Spectators  who  had  not  wet  their  feet  during 
all  that  horrible  scene  swam  now  in  the  whirlpool 
for  the  woman's  sake,  and  for  the  shame  she  wrought 
upon  them.  Brawny  arms  and  steady  feet  bore  her 
back.  Her  little  hand,  rigid,  clutched  her  husband 
by  the  collar  of  his  shirt. 

Scud  was  carried  quickly  up  and  laid  upon  the 
piazza.  An  ugly  bruise  was  upon  his  forehead. 

The  wind  died  down.  The  rain  came  in  white 
torrents.  Betty  stood  in  the  deluge  and  shielded 
her  husband  automatically.  The  children,  most  of 
them  too  small  to  know  the  reason  why,  lifted  up 
their  voices  and  wept. 

"  Father,"  said  Betty,  softly,  "  why  don't  ye  speak 
to  me?  Dearie,  dearie  Scud.  I  saved  ye.  Hain't 
ye  nothing  to  say  to  me,  Scud  ?  " 

"  You'd  better  go  into  the  house."  said  some  one. 


204  SCUD. 

"Leave  Scud  to  us  awhile."  For  in  truth  not  a 
man  or  woman  of  us  but  believed  that  Scud  was 
dead. 

"  You  jess  get  us  to  a  kitchen  fire,"  said  Betty, 
quietly,  "  and  leave  him  to  we." 

And  it  was  repeated  with  many  a  trembling 
lip  far  down  the  coast  that  night  that  Scud  would 
live. 

It  was  the  morning  of  my  departure,  and  it  had 
come  by  the  last  express  the  night  before.  It  had 
been  kept  a  profound  secret,  for  we  would  not  risk 
a  cruel  disappointment.  Scud  had  rowed  to  town 
with  a  full  fare  of  fish,  and  Salt  was  with  him,  doing 
the  rowing.  We  left  word  that  they  should  come 
to  the  house  as  soon  as  they  had  put  up  their  dory. 
A  peremptory  message  was  sent  to  Betty  to  come 
over  immediately  to  do  some  work.  A  few  neigh 
bors  happened  to  drop  in.  There  might  have  been 
a  dozen  or  so  in  all.  My  cousin  did  not  go  into  town 
that  day.  lie  said  he  wanted  to  see  me  off.  Betty 
came  a  little  early,  and  was  set  to  scrubbing  the 
pantry  floor. 

But  Scud,  a  hero  ?    He  had  forgotten  all  about  it 
now.     He  was  the  same   old  fellow,  just  as  easy, 
just  as  jolly,  just  as  careless.     Scud  wasn't  at  all 


SCUD.  205 

spoiled  by  what  had  happened.  He  was  as  comfor 
table  as  the  sea,  this  very  morning.  Who  would 
have  suspected  the  passing  of  a  grand  storm  upon 
the  Uearts  of  either?  Scud's  sluggish  blood  had 
been  "  up  "  for  one  fiery  hour.  For  one  great  day 
he  had  been  the  hero  of  the  coast — the  peer  of  all 
its  heroes.  Then  the  fire  went  out,  and  Scud  be 
came  as  he  was.  Perhaps  Scud  was  more  popular ; 
his  babies  were  better  fed.  Fishermen  treated  him 
with  a  grudged  respect,  and  when  he  was  pointed 
out  to  every  new  squad  of  boarders  as  the  bravest 
man  on  the  whole  coast,  they  smiled.  How  could 
that  grinning,  singing  Scud  save  a  jelly-fish? 

It  was  just  eleven  o'clock.  With  what  impatience 
we  had  waited  for  the  tramp  of  those  rubber  boots ! 
We  rushed  upon  the  piazza  and  greeted  Scud  and 
Salt,  dressed  in  their  oil-skins,  just  as  they  had  come 
from  the  trap.  Scud  halted  uneasily  at  the  front 
door. 

"  No  miss,  I  can't  come  in  in  this  toggery ;  I'm  all 
gurry.  I'll  go  home  and  change  my  clothes. 
Couldn't  get  here  sooner.  Herrin'  jess  struck.  We 
sold  ten  barr'l  this  mornin'." 

But  we  constrained  him,  and  Scud  entered,  star 
ing  about,  shuffling  his  rubber  boots  and  wiping 
them  as  best  he  might,  White  scales  of  fish  glittered 


206  SCUD. 

upon  his  black  oil- skins.  lie  looked  as  if  he  were 
mailed  in  silver. 

It  devolved  upon  me  to  fetch  Betty  from  the  pan 
try  ;  but  I  saw  as  I  went  that  all  of  the  people  in 
the  parlor  stood  up  as  Scud  entered,  as  if  they  were 
greeting  a  prince.  Scud  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  uncomfortably.  lie  blushed  a  deep  russet  red, 
and  stared,  and  then  laughed  in  a  vacant  way. 
Betty  now  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and  the  three 
made  a  most  impressive  group  in  their  working- 
clothes,  wondering  what  it  was  all  about,  and  what 
the  city  folk  were  after  now. 

"  Scud,"  said  the  master  of  the  house,  clearing  his 
throat,  "  you  have  done  the  bravest  deed  this  coast 
has  record  of  for  twenty  years.  You  have  saved  to 
us  our  children,  dearer  than  our  life.  You  had  your 
own  wife  to  think  of,  and  the  children  who  depend 
upon  you  for  their  bread.  You  have  been  a  hero. 
To  us  you  are  always  a  hero,  and  our  love  and  grati 
tude  will  last  as  long  as  our  days.  I  have  the 
privilege  of  presenting  to  you  the  highest  tribute 
Massachusetts  pays  to  her  brave  men — the  gold 
medal  of  her  great  Humane  Society,  one  hundred 
years  old.  This  honor  has  not  been  sought,  but  has 
been  eagerly  bestowed.  May  it  never  leave  your 
family !  It  will  be  an  inspiration  to  your  boys.  You 


SCUD.  207 

have  obtained  the  reward  of  your  pluck,  and  you 
deserve  it,  old  fellow.  Now  shake !  "  The  speech 
bro£e  in  eloquence,  but  not  in  feeling. 

"  See,"  said  Mabel,  "  I  kiss  the  medal  for  you  and 
for  my  dear  children's  sake."  She  flashed  it  from 
its  plush  case,  and  placed  the  solemn  emblem,  whose 
exquisite  engravings  glittered  like  a  jewel,  in  his 
great  wet  hands. 

Salt  turned  his  face  to  the  wall.  Betty  put  her 
apron  over  her  face,  and  Scud's  eyes  ran  dripping 
over.  He  opened  his  mouth,  but  110  sound  came 
forth. 

"  And  now,  Betty,  look  here,"  said  her  mistress 
in  a  gay,  tremulous  tone,  "  I  have  something  for 
you"  She  held  out  in  her  delicate  hand  forty  sil 
ver  dollars,  trie  gift  of  the  Humane  Society  to  Betty 
herself.  "You  are  a  woman,  and  you  saved  a 
man's  life,"  explained  my  cousin,  "  and  the  society 
always  recognizes  the  courage  of  a  woman." 

But  Betty  drew  herself  up  in  her  scrubbing  dress. 
She  had  a  fine  look. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  she  said,  "  and  the  gentle 
man  too.  But  he  was  my  husband ;  I  don't  take  no 
money  from  nobody  for  savin'  of  my  husband.  I'm 
just  as  much  obleeged  to  ye."  Almost  every  child  in 
her  house  was  dressed  in  "  given  "  clothes,  but  the 


208  SCUD. 

unpauperized  soul  looked  out  of  Betty's  faded  eyes 
"  Well,"    said    my  cousin,  looking     nonplussed, 
"how  would  it  do  to  make  it  over  to  the  twins  ?  " 

"  As  ye  please,"  said  Betty,  shining.  So  the  four 
twin  babies  received  ten  silver  dollars  apiece  from 
the  Humane  Society  for  plunging;  into  the  water 
and  saving  their  father's  life.  This  was  an  illegal 
procedure.  1  grant  it.  And  if  the  Society  now  for 
the  first  time  learneth  of  the  matter,  I  am  fain  to 
believe  that  it  is  too  old  and  too  great  to  take 
account  thereof. 

We  were  rowing  over  to  catch  my  train.  Scud 
was  the  oarsman.  lie  sat  quite  still,  and  had  a 
dazed  look.  Midway  of  the  bay  he  stopped  pulling, 
lifted  and  crossed  his  oars.  I  saw  his  Adam's  apple 
rising  and  falling  like  an  irresolute  tide. 

"I  were  took  all  of  a  sudden,"  he  said,  slowly ;  "  I 
never  felt  so  in  all  my  life.  My  throat  felt  kinder 
queer  an'  dry.  But  I'm  mightily  obliged  to  yer.  It 
might  give  Salt  a  lift.  But  I  didn't  know  what  to 
say,  an'  so  I  didn't  say  nothin'." 


THE"  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 


1111  COURT  STREET, 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  Nov.  12.  1890. 
Mr.    Francis    B.    Ellesworth,     University     Club, 
Boston,  Mass. : 

MY  DEAR  FRANK,  I  am  sorry  to  inform  you 
that  the  Benson  note  is  still  uncollected.  The  party 
writes  that  he  will  try  to  pay  it  soon.  Our  cor 
respondent  in  Sunshine,  S.  C.,  considers  the  Benson 
security  in  Cherokee  first-class.  As  this  is  the 
only  S.  C.  mortgage  that  has  slipped  up  so  far  on 
our  hands,  I  should  advise  you  to  be  patient  a  few 
more  days.  Perhaps  you  had  better  give  the  party 
leeway  up  to  Dec.  1,  if  necessary,  as  it  is  his  first 
default  since  you  took  the  papers,  three  years  ago. 
However,  if  you  are  impatient  and  wish  to  settle 
the  matter,  send  me  down  the  trust  deeds  and  notes. 
Run  in  any  time.  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you. 
Very  truly  yours, 

JOSEPH  TODD. 

Young  ElTesworth  carefully  deposited  his  cigar 
in  the  bronze  ash  receiver  on  the  polished  table  by 
his  side,  and  pulled  out  from  his  breast  pocket  a 


2 1 2  THE  ROMA\<'E  OF  A  MO 7? TGAGE. 

notebook  which  lie  consulted.  After  a  few  moments 
he  seemed  to  satisfy  himself  as  to  the  identity  of 
his  mortgager  Benson ;'  put  his  papers  up,  and  sank 
back  into  a  reverie. 

The  gray  November  day  seemed  to  have  contented 
itself  with  monopolizing  the  streets  and  the  faded 
Common,  and  the  poor  tenements,  and  the  ragged 
stragglers,  and  to  have  passed  by  the  windows  of 
Beacon  Street,  and  the  luxurious  smoking-room 
of  the  new  University  Club.  Francis  Ellesworth 
sprawled  listlessly  in  the  deep  chair  by  the  window, 
and  vaguely  congratulated  himself  that  he  did  not 
have  to  earn  his  supper.  It  was  lucky  that  he  did 
not  have  to,  for  any  tyro  of  a  physiognomist  could 
havs  seen  at  a  glance  that  the  delicate  features,  the 
sallow  complexion,  brightened  by  red  spots  upon 
his  cheeks,  the  gentle  black  eyes  and  the  straight 
black  hair,  did  not  belong  to  a  robust  New  England 
body. 

The  trouble  with  Ellesworth  was,  not  that  he  was 
rich  enough  not  to  have  to  work,  but  that  he  was 
born  at  all.  He  considered  it  only  a  fair  compen 
sation  for  this  insult  that  three  years  ago  he  had 
fallen  heir  to  seventy-five  thousand  dollars,  which 
he  had  successfully  invested  and  reinvested  ever 
since.  This  occupation,  and  the  clubs  and  a  few 
other  necessary  amusements  formed  his  life. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  213 

He  was  not  handsome,  but  just  interesting  look 
ing  enough  not  to  pass  unnoticed.  lie  was  not 
vulgar ;  that  is  to  say,  he  did  not  drink  too  much, 
did  not  swear,  and  was  not  the  kind  of  a  fellow 
who  compromises  a  woman  by  his  attentions.  He 
was  neither  clever  nor  stupid.  Thousands  of  young 
men  in  our  great  cities  are  of  this  type,  unimportant 
to  men  of  intent,  and  a  missionary  field  to  women 
of  character. 

He  needed  an  electric  shock  either  to  kill  him  or 
make  a  man  of  him.  But  perhaps,  after  all,  Elles- 
worth  was  not  wholly  to  blame  for  not  trying 
to  make  his  mark ;  for  he  was  not  so  strong  as 
other  men,  .as  I  said  before,  and  had,  besides,  so 
thoroughly  coddled  himself  into  that  belief  that 
useful  activity  was  struck  off  of  his  list  of  pos 
sibilities. 

Now  it  happened  that  this  Benson  mortgage  was 
the  first  which  he  had  taken  out  under  his  inheri 
tance  ;  it  had  a  certain  special  interest  to  him  for 
that  reason  ;  it  had  netted  him  eight  per  cent,  clear, 
and  he  considered-  his  fifteen  hundred  dollars  well 
invested.  His  Harvard  classmate,  Todd,  a  good 
judge,  had  selected  the  mortgage  for  him,  and 
altogether  it  seemed  to  the  young  property -holder 
quite  an  important,  if  not  to  say  a  public,  financial 
affair  that  this  first  of  October  passed  without  pro- 


214  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

ducing  sixty  dollars  from  Benson.  lie  didn't  know 
who  Benson,  was ;  nor  did  lie  care.  How  many  a 
capitalist  in  the  East  knows  the  sturdy  settler 
whose  hard-earned  home  he  holds  in  his  relentless 
safe !  The  drought  conies,  the  crops  wither  away  , 
the  cyclone  sweeps  the  land;  the  only  horse  that 
does  the  ploughing  dies  ;  the  mother  is  sick  and 
the  father  tends  the  babies  instead  of  the  wheat — a 
hundred  catastrophes  menace  the  farmer,  but  what 
ever  happens,  the  semi-annual  dividend  must  be 
paid  or  the  nightmare  cf  his  life  comes  to  pass — the 
terrible  capitalist  in  the  East,  less  compassionate 
than  the  cyclone  or  the  inundation  or  the  drought, 
takes  the  home  as  a  matter  of  course,  just  as  he 
takes  his  dinner.  Who  would  dare  complain  ?  Xot 
Benson  surely,  thought  Ellesworth,  with  the  smile 
of  a  man  who  holds  a  "  full  hand." 

"  Work  Benson  for  all  he  is  worth,"  wrote  Elles 
worth  on  some  blue  club-paper,  "  and  give  him  until 
the  first  of  December." 

The  first  of  December  came,  but  no  South  Carolina 
interest.  Francis  Ellesworth  was  greatly  annoyed 
and  told  Todd  so  plainly. 

"  He  is  sick,"  explained  Todd.  "  Somebody  else 
wrote  for  him.  The  letter  came  the  other  day. 
But  he  signed  it.  He  asks  for  another  fifteen  days." 

Ellesworth  frowned. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MO11TGAGE.  215 

"  I'm  deuced  hard  up  just  now,"  he  said,  "  Christ 
mas  is  coming  on.  That  would  just  settle  my 
flower  bill.  Ilalvin  has  sent  me  three  confoundedly 
gentlemanly  bills.  That's  the  worst  of  it.  Write 
and  tell  Benson  I'll  give  him  until  the  fifteenth  of 
December — not  another  day." 

"  Just  as  you  say,"  answered  Todd.  "  It's  all 
safe  enough,  but  it  will  take  some  time  to  realize. 
Cherokee  isn't  exactly  booming,  but  he's  got  fifty 
acres  and  one  half  cleared,  the  other  half  is  heavy 
yellow  pine.  The  timber  is  worth  the  whole 
amount,  my  correspondent  assures  me,  besides  the 
house  and  out-buildings.  You  won't  lose,  not  a 
cent,  I'll  guarantee ;  but  it's  annoying,  I  will  admit." 

Then  they  fell  to  talking  about  the  Yale  foot-ball 
victory.  Of  course  they  talked  late  and  Ellesworth 
walked  to  his  apartments  in  a  heavy  shower. 

That  night,  one  of  the  catastrophes  which  prove 
demons  or  angels  to  our  lives,  occurred  to  the 
young  man.  lie  was  taken  suddenly  and  violently 
ill.  Of  the  three  physicians  summoned  by  the  ex 
cited  janitor,  to  prescribe  for  the  sickness,  one 
called  the  case  penumonia  ;  another  preferred 
malaria ;  and  the  third,  having  just  delivered  an 
original  paper  on  the  subject,  suggested  brain 
grippe.  In  only  one  respect  the  three  wise  men 
agreed — their  patient  must  spend  the  winter  in  the 


216  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

South.  Oddly  enough,  they  recommended  Sun 
shine,  South  Carolina ;  and  as  Sunshine  is  a  fash 
ionable  resort,  with  plenty  of  hotels  and  tennis  and 
girls,  Ellesworth  found  no  difficulty  in  obeying  the 
medical  counsel.  Thus  in  ten  days  he  found  himself 
in  the  land  of  the  palmetto  and  the  japonica.  It 
was  an  abrupt  change,  and  therefore  all  the  more 
natural  for  that.  The  other  day  an  invalid  started 
for  India  on  an  eighteen  hours'  notice. 

Ellesworth's  illness  and  the  journey  had  entirely 
driven  the  Benson  matter  out  of  his  mind.  lie  had 
drawn  upon  an  emergency  fund  for  his  trip,  and  the 
fact  that  he  was  sixty  dollars  short  had  escaped  his 
easy  memory.  Therefore  the  further  announcement 
from  Todd  that  Benson  could  not  pay  at  the  date 
agreed  upon  came  to  him  as  a  new  shock.  Todd  had 
written  a  formal  letter  to  his  classmate,  merely  stat 
ing  the  fact  and  asking  for  instructions.  As  Elles 
worth  read  it,  he  had  a  vague  feeling  that  there  was 
something  behind  that  was  not  told.  But  he  had 
just  lost  a  game  of  billiards  to  an  inferior  player,  and 
felt  cross. 

"  Confound  that  Benson  ! "  he  ejaculated.  Then 
he  sat  down  and  wrote :  "  Foreclose  at  once.  My 
attorneys,  Squeeze  &  Claw,  will  give  you  the  Ben 
son  trust  deeds  on  presentation  of  this.  Hurry  it 
through  as  soon  as  you  can." 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  217 

He  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  lighted  a  cigar  with 
Todd's  letter. 

There  are  critics  who  assert  that  the  modern 
story  fails  of  its  mission  unless  it  deals  in  extraor 
dinary  characters  embedded  like  the  rare  crystals  of 
Hiddenite,  in  an  extraordinary  matrix ;  and  that  the 
public,  tired  to  suffocation  of  its  own  commonplaces, 
has  a  right  to  expect  something  out  of  the  usual  run. 
If  such  a  dictum  were  final  Francis  Ellesworth  is  in 
nowise  a  fit  hero  for  a  "  penny-dreadful,"  nor  was  it 
even  an  extraordinary  circumstance  that  made  him 
inquire  how  far  Cherokee  Garden  was  from  Sun 
shine. 

"  You  can  go  by  railroad,"  answered  the  Xorthern 
clerk,  "  or  you  can  go  horseback.  It's  only  eight 
miles  by  road  through  the  pines.  It's  a  very  pretty 
ride  to  take  before  dinner." 

Ellesworth  had  two  reasons  for  amusing  himself 
by  an  easy  trip  to  Cherokee.  lie  had  a  vague  feel 
ing  of  remorse  which  often  follows  the  decree  of 
justice.  Lincoln  was  made  ill  by  being  obliged  to  re 
fuse  a  pardon.  The  greater  the  power  the  heavier 
it  hangs  upon  the  heart.  Ellesworth,  as  he  enter 
tained  himself  in  the  conventional  way,  ever  spend 
ing,  never  earning,  began  to  feel  that  he  had  done  a 
brutal  thing,  without  even  looking  into  the  circum 
stances,  to  order  a  man's  home  sold  over  his  head, 


218  THE  H OMANCE  OF  A  NOR TGA G£. 

because  he  had  failed  to  pay  interest  for  the  first 
time.  If  Benson's  farm  were  only  eight  miles  away 
why  did  he  not  see  him  before  he  sent  the  command 
to  foreclose  ?  There  was  an  atonement  owing,  and 
this  feeling,  rising  like  a  mist  in  the  mind  of  the 
•young  man,  who  knew  much  of  pleasure  and  little 
of  misery,  drew  him  to  the  mortgaged  plantation. 
And  then,  if  Benson  did  prove  a  shiftless  fellow,  he 
wanted  to  see  what  kind  of  a  place  he  might  be  soon 
forced  to  own.  He  might  make  it  his  winter  resort 
and  come  down  there  every  year.  The  more  selfish 
thought  reenforced  the  generous  one,  and  piqued  his 
curiosity,  as  he  rode  slowly  into  the  wilderness,  leav 
ing  Sunshine  and  its  fashionable  savor  behind. 

It  was  a  December  morning.  To  one  not  used  to 
the  tropics,  the  sun,  the  heat,  the  greenness,  the  ex 
hilaration  were  magical.  Under  what  cold  com 
forter  was  Boston  Common  shivering  on  this  winter 
day !  What  pneumonic  gales  roared  up  Beacon 
Street  and  gnashed  through  Commonwealth  Avenue, 
seeking  whom  they  might  devour,  and  having1  not  a 
great  way  to  go!  How  blue  the  street  vendors 
looked — the  Italian  boys  who  gilded  statuettes  on 
Tremont  Street,  and  the  man  under  the  old  court 
house  who  offers  to  clean  your  gloves  of  the  un- 
pardonble  sin — for  five  cents!  How  the  fellows 
shivered  as  they  stamped  the  snow  off  in  the  club 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  219 

vestibule  !  The  wonder  that  New  England  is  not 
depopulated  when  there  is  such  an  Eden  in  which 
to  spend  the  devastating  winter !  So  Ellesworth 
thought  as  he  jogged  along  the  uneven,  sandy  road, 
congratulating  himself  with  every  deep  breath,  arid 
sitting  straight  and  straighter  in  the  saddle.  He 
had  never  felt  so  happy  and  so  free  as  he  did  this 
December  morning.  Passing  slowly  by  a  deserted 
orchard,  he  could  see  the  yellow  larks  flying  from 
tree  to  tree,  and  could  hear  the  robins  and  the  cat 
birds  calling  each  other  names,  and  mocking  each 
other  merrily.  Xow  and  then  he  stopped  his  horse 
to  watch  a  couple  of  quails  leisurely  hopping  across 
the  road,  and  strained  his  ears  to  hear  their  thrum 
as  they  were  startled  in  the  thicket.  The  very  air 
seemed  happy.  Care  and  illness  slipped  away  as 
the  sunshine  slipped  on  the  faces  of  the  leaves. 
It  was  December  ?  Xo,  it  was  summer  with  some 
thing  thrown  in  that  is  never  present  in  our  Xorth- 
ern  June. 

Ellesworth  galloped  along  until  his  horse  stumbled 
into  a  mud-hole.  Before  him,  in  a  hollow,  a  stream 
had  to  be  forded  in  the  usual  Southern  way.  Above 
and  beyond,  a  cabin  could  be  seen  from  whose  out 
side  chimney  smoke  arose  in  a  perpendicular  column. 
Cocks  crew  in  the  distance,  and  there  was  every  in 
dication  that  the  outskirts  of  Cherokee  were  repre- 


220  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

sented  in  the  hut  before  him.  As  Ellesworth  halted 
in  the  deepest  part  of  the  brook,  allowing  his  horse 
to  drink,  he  saw  clusters  of  mistletoe  on  the  tops  of 
slender  trees.  The  dark  green  of  this  romantic 
parasite  set  against  the  gray  of  the  trees  and  their 
moss  formed  a  new  picture  for  the  Northerner. 
The  glistening  mistletoe  with  its  white  berries  re 
called  scenes  that  he  had  read  about.  Ellesworth 
had  played  too  lightly  with  life  to  have  ever  been 
seriously  in  love.  The  flirtation  of  a  few  weeks  or 
months  and  the  solemn  tenderness  of  devoted  love 
are  not  allied.  The  one  passes  into  the  other  as 
seldom  as  silicon  passes  into  the  cells  of  a  fallen 
tree.  Ellesworth  had  never  gone  beyond  conven 
tional  devotion :  and  this  he  had  so  far  discreetly 
given  to  married  women.  This  emblem  of  Christ 
mas  troth  actually  growing  before  his  eyes,  and 
seen  by  him  in  its  native  state  for  the  first  time, 
produced  a  vague  longing  upon  the  young  New 
Englander.  He  remembered  a  precise  and  beautiful 
Boston  girl,  rich  enough  and  all  that,  whom  he  had 
vainly  tried  to  consider  in  the  light  of  a  possible 
wife.  What  well-bred  surprise  would  she  have 
poured  upon  him  if  he  had  attempted  to  claim  the 
right  of  the  mistletoe  branch !  He  had  waited  in 
order  to  give  and  receive  spontaneous,  unconven 
tional  tokens  of  affection.  He  had  dreamed  of  walk- 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  221 

ing  in  the  fields  by  the  side  of  the  phantom  lie 
loved,  clasping  her  hand  and  swinging  it  with  his, 
just  like  children  in  Arcadia.  He  wanted  no  wife 
who  would  accept  her  husband's  kiss  as  a  matter  of 
necessity.  He  had  seen  them,  and  cynically  watched 
the  husband  casting  furtive,  longing  looks  at  her 
who  swore  to  cherish  him  unto  death. 

Thus  spoke  the  chaste,  the  alluring  mistletoe  to 
his  heart.  These  thoughts  surprised  him,  and  he 
hurried  along  in  vague  discomfort  over  the  little 
slope  (the  natives  called  it  a  hill)  and  up  to  the 
straggling  village,  called  in  his  papers  of  descrip 
tion  Cherokee  Garden  for  no  earthly  reason  what 
ever. 

"Is  this  Cherokee  Garden?"  he  asked  of  the 
wrinkled  white  woman  sitting  in  the  doorway  of 
the  solitary  suburban  residence. 

"  This  ain't  the  hull  of  it,  young  man,"  she 
answered  severely,  taking  her  corn-cob  pipe  out  of 
her  mouth  and  looking  at  Ellesworth  as  if  he  had 
cast  an  aspersion  upon  a  city.  "  Ye  kin  ride  down 
the  road  a  right  smart  bit  until  ye  come  to  the 
kyars.  The  post  office  is  on  the  other  side  o'  the 
track."  This  she  said  with  an  accent  of  resentment. 

"  Do  you  know  where  a  man  called  William  Ben 
son  lives,  whom  I  understand  has  a — a  farm  here 
somewhere  ?  " 


222  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

When  Ellesworth  had  finished  his  question  the 
old  woman  got  up  and,  supported  by  her  stick, 
tottered  to  his  side,  and  peered  up  into  his 
face. 

"  Air  ye  any  kin  ter  Bill  Benson  ?  Air  ye  an'thin 
to  him?" 

"No,  no,"  stammered  Ellesworth,  taken  aback. 
"  I  only  wanted  to  call  on  him.  Why  ?  " 

"  Ye'll  hev' ter  go  right  smart  ways  tu  find  Bill 
Benson,"  replied  the  old  woman,  grimly. 

She  peered  up  into  his  face  again,  and  shook  her 
head.  Ellesworth,  wondering  whether  his  creditor 
had  "  skipped  to  Cuba  to  avoid  payment,"  awaited 
information. 

"  Bill  Benson  "  (she  stopped  to  take  a  whiff,  and 
then  proceeded  with  a  tone  of  awe  caught  from 
Methodist  preachers)  "  hez  gone  to  glory  !  " 

"  Where  ? "  asked  Boston,  ignorant  of  the  long 
itude  and  latitude  of  that  strange  place. 

"  To  glory,  young  man !  "  repeated  the  old  woman, 
impressively.  "Elder  Jones  buried  Bill  in  Tantal- 
lon  biiryin'  ground,  four  mile  from  liyar  down  the 
track,"  added  the  woman,  severely. 

Tier  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper  on  the  last  words, 
and  she  looked  to  see  their  effect  upon  the  horse 
man.  The  red  handkerchief ,  tied  over  her  head  and 
under  her  chin,  had  fallen  down  behind  her  neck 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  223 

and  revealed  a  bald  head.  The  cock  crew  from 
the  step  of  the  hut. 

Benson  dead  !  This,  then,  accounted  for  the  note 
so  long  overdue.  Benson  had  been  sick,  and  could 
not  pay.  Why  had  Elles worth  not  known  this 
before?  He  reddened  with  self-reproach.  This 
was  the  first  tragedy  which  he  had  stumbled  upon, 
and  how  much  of  it  was  his  own  doing  !  The  old 
woman  looked  at  him  suspiciously. 

"  When  did  he  die  ?  "  he  asked  softly. 

The  woman  counted  backwards  on  her  fingers 
with  the  stem  of  her  pipe.  "  Right  smart  onto  two 
weeks,"  she  answered  after  much  calculation.  Then 
she  shot  this  question  at  him  with  a  scowl,  "  Ye 
hain't  no  Northerner,  air  ye  ?  " 

Taken  off  his  guard,  Elles  worth  hesitated,  and 
then  forswore  his  section. 

"  I — I  am  living  at — eh— Sunshine." 

Her  face  lighted. 

"  Mebbe  ye'r  raised  in  Charleston.  Ye  look  like 
a  South  Carolinian." 

Ellesworth  was  drawn  to  it  by  some  occult  power, 
and  nodded  assent.  The  old  woman's  manner  was 
now  totally  different,  and  she  approached  him  confi 
dentially,  and  offered  him  the  use  of  her  tin  snuff 
box,  which  he  courteously  declined. 

"Ye  haint  heerd,so  Colonel  Tom  Garvin  told  me, 


2lU  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

• 

that  a  clum  Northerner  hez  got  a  holt  on  Bill's 
place ;  and  there  ain't  none  left  now  'eept  Georgy 
and  Mrs.  McCorkle  as  is  a  widder  nigh  on  ten  year. 
Colonel  Tom  is  kin  to  her  mother's  second  cousin, 
and  he  says  thet  the.t  dum  Yankee  hed  better  not 
show  up  'round  these  parts,  for  he  'd  get  plugged  if 
he  tries  to  take  Bill's  place  away  from  Georgy, 
poor,  innercent  thing  that  she  is."  The  old  woman's 
cracked  voice  thrilled  with  the  passion  and  ten 
derness  of  her  kind ;  "but  Ellesworth  did  not  look  at 
her  as  she  finished.  lie  felt  a  little  frightened,  and 
he  bent  over  his  horse  to  fleck  a  bit  of  bark  with 
his  whip  to  conceal  it. 

"How  far  do  they  live  from  here?"  he  asked 
after  a  pause,  which  she  interpreted  as  actuated  by 
sympathy. 

"  'Tain't  no  fur  at  all.  Ye  take  the  next  turn  to 
yer  left.  It's  the  first  plantation  ye  come  to.  I 
reckon  ye  '11  see  Georgy  a  dustin'  and  sweepin'. 
She's  almighty  pertikler,  she  is,  poor  creetur." 

Ellesworth  thanked  the  old  woman  dreamily  and 
rode  in  the  direction  which  she  pointed  out. 

Ellesworth  had  never  thought  of  this  view  of  the 
subject.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  would 
be  an  object  of  hatred  in  Cherokee  Garden.  He 
glanced  around  furtively,  as  if  he  expected  to  see  an 
enemy  hiding  behind  the  trees,  At  any  rate,  so 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  225 

far,  he  was  not  known.  He  made  up  his  mind  that 
he  should  not  be.  Benson's  daughter  was  undoubt 
edly  a  sallow,  withered  young  girl,  with  a  hot 
temper  and  a  deep  sense  of  injury ;  and,  if  she  found 
out  his  identity  would  probably  call  the  country  to 
arms  against  him.  But  the  Yankee  had  no  idea  of 
giving  up  his  rights.  His  hands  tightened  on  reins 
and  whip.  He  meant  to  see  the  plantation  that 
was  mortgaged  in  his  name  at  any  cost.  But  about 
one  thing  he  was  now  certain.  Cherokee  would 
never  be  a  winter  resort  for  him. 

He  walked  his  horse  to  the  cross-road,  to  the  left, 
about  a  thousand  yards  or  so,  until  he  came  in 
front  of  a  house.  He  halted  and  looked  at  it  long 
and  critically.  It  was  a  two-story  house,  built  of 
yellow  pine,  that  had  not  been  painted.  In  spite  of 
this,  it  did  not  look  neglected.  It  had  an  air  of 
scrupulous  neatness  and  care.  Around  the  house 
ran  a  simple  fence,  made  to  keep  the  chickens  and 
the  pigs  that  swarmed  about  him,  from  the  garden 
arid  the  piazza.  A  huge  rosebush  covered  one 
whole  side  of  the  house,  while  in  the  garden  and  on 
the  veranda  red  and  white  japonicas  were  in  flower. 
Flanking  the  walk  from  the  gate  to  the  house,  high 
azalea  bushes  were  pushing  forth  their  buds  for  the 
spring  blooming,  and  little  borders  of  box  protected 

with  wooden  boards,  and  bunches  of  holly  inter- 

15 


226  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

sected  the  little  garden.  It  was  more  than  a  home 
like  looking  place :  it  was  fascinatingly  cozy,  with 
its  roses  and  camellias  and  azaleas  and  a  single 
protecting  palmetto,  and  over-towering  live  oaks, 
and  majestic  pines.  It  was  just  the  place  Elles- 
worth  had  dreamed  of  possessing.  It  was  luxuriant ; 
it  was  tropical.  The  air,  semi-spiced  with  odors  of 
gum  and  blooms  mounted  to  his  brain  like  a  nar 
cotic.  He  sat  upon  his  horse  and  looked  about.  His 
eyes  roamed  past  the  house  and  caught  the  contrast 
of  the  unkempt  fields  with  the  neatness  within  the 
enclosure.  He  noted  the  olive  fingers  of  the  high 
pines  beyond  the  ploughed  land. 

It  was  a  fair  and  a  sad  sight — William  Benson 
was  not  there  to  enjoy  his  home. 

With  a  sigh  of  longing  and  of  self-reproach  he 
turned  his  face  toward  the  house  again.  Before 
him,  with  one  hand  on  the  gate,  stood  a  woman. 
She  was  looking  at  him.  Questions  were  in  her  eyes. 
Ellesworth  stared  at  her  in  amazement,  and  only 
superlatives  crowded  into  his  mind ;  for  she  was  the 
most  glorious  woman  he  had  ever  seen.  She  was  tall, 
almost  to  his  own  height,  and  with  a  proportional 
figure.  Dressed  without  ornament,  without  ruffle,  or 
frill  or  white  at  the  throat,  in  plain  black,  her  face 
revealed  itself  on  the  green  background  as  if  it  were 
upon  a  canvas  by  Bastien  Lepage.  It  was  a  face 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  227 

in  which  there  seemed  to  be  many  nationalities 
blended  :  Italian  eyes,  Spanish  coloring  of  the 
cheeks,  black  Indian  hair,  rich  Mexican  lips, — these 
coordinated  into  the  most  startling  type  he  had  ever 
seen,  through  a  quick,  sensitive,  high-spirited  in 
telligence,  the  inheritance  of  Southern  blood.  He 
could  not  analyze  this  beauty  ;  he  could  only  gasp 
at  it. 

Francis  B.  Elles worth  was,  as  has  been  intimated, 
not  a  captivating  man  per  se  ;  but  as  he  sat  upon 
his  horse,  with  the  flush  of  excitement  upon  his 
face,  and  a  certain  refinement  in  his  carriage  that 
looked  as  much  out  of  place  in  Cherokee  Garden  as 
the  face  of  the  girl  before  him,  lie  was  not  an  unat 
tractive  fellow.  Now,  as  the  two  were  not  over 
fifteen  feet  apart,  and  were  both  looking  at  each 
other,  one  of  them  had  to  speak.  She  waited  for 
him  to  do  so.  He  simply  couldn't.  So  she  spoke 
first. 

"  Have  you  lost  your  way,  sir  ?  " 

The  tremor  of  the  dimple  in  her  chin  and  the 
marked  effort  which  she  made  to  steady  her  voice, 
showed  that  she  was  much  agitated.  Had  she  not 
been  expecting  the  man  who  was  to  take  away  her 
home  for  a  paltry  sum  of  unpaid  money  ?  She  had 
looked  upon  the  Yankee  who  lield  her  father's  notes 
as  little  more  than  a  thief.  And  now  that  her  father 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

had  died,  she  seriously  considered  him  in  the  light  of 
a  murderer.  She  thought  of  his  agent  as  his  "  min 
ion,"  whom  it  was  clearly  due  her  dignity  to  resist. 
The  case  had  been  the  talk  of  the  scraggly  village, 
and  the  judge  of  the  district,  who  was  reputed  to 
know  the  intricacies  of  all  the  law  that  ever  was 
tabulated,  asserted  vehemently  in  her  presence  that 
to  eject  her  from  her  home  was  an  outrage  that 
could  not  and  would  not  he  permitted  as  long  as  the 
able-bodied  men  of  Cherokee  could  carry  a  gun. 
This  testimony  of  Southern  chivalry  the  girl  fully 
believed. 

And  now  the  invader  had  come  at  last.  She 
clutched  the  gate  and  collected  herself  to  meet  him. 

"  Xo,  miss,  that  is— is  this  William  Benson's  ? — I 
mean—  '  Ellesworth  halted,  remembering  that  his 
debtor  was  no  more,  and  not  wishing  to  remind  her 
of  the  fact.  "  Was  this  his  place  ?  " 

The  magnificent  girl  looked  at  him  over  that  fence 
and  measured  him.  Yes,  the  worst  had  come  at 
last,  and  an  uncalled-for  insult  with  it.  How  the 
stranger  gloated  over  the  fact  that  the  place  was 
n ot  her  father's !  She  drew  herself  to  her  full  height ; 
her  black  eyes  blazed;  her  cheeks  became  carmine. 
She  could  hardly  control  her  voice  from  indignation. 

"You  mistake,  sir.  This  is  his  place,  and  I 
think,  sir,  it  will  remain  so." 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  229 

She  looked  at  him  fiercely  and  waited  to  let  that 
sentiment  fructify  in  the  young  man's  soul. 

"  Indeed,  I  —  I  hope  so,"  ventured  Elles- 
worth. 

Disregarding  this  as  a  feeble  attempt  at  apology, 
she  asked, — 

"  What  is  your  name,  sir  ?  Do  you  come  from 
him  f  Or  are  you  lie  /  " 

The  .contempt  which  she  cast  into  the  personal 
pronouns  had  a  marked  effect  upon  Ellesworth.  The 
mere  fact  that  a  woman,  for  whom  at  first  sight  he  felt 
a  greater  admiration  than  he  had  ever  bestowed  else 
where,  should  be  so  antagonistic  to  him  at  the  start, 
made  his  heart  contract  within  him.  Yet  he  man 
aged  to  pull  himself  together  and  say,  with  admir 
able  feint, — 

"  Excuse  me.  You  must  labor  under  a  mistake. 
I  am  a  total  stranger  here.  I  am — eh — merely 
looking  about.  I  am  staying  at  Sunshine,  for  my 
health." 

He  noted  with  satisfaction  a  look  of  relief  steal 
ing  over  her  face,  and  a  slight  touch  of  spontaneous 
sympathy,  too,  at  his  last  statement.  Ellesworth 
immediately  followed  the  lead  up. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  am  an  invalid,  and  was  ordered 
South  for  my  lungs.  I  have  heard  so  much  about 
Southern  hospitality,  would  it  be  asking  too  much 


230  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MOUTH  AGE. 

for  me  to  rest  here  awhile  ?  I  am  a  trifle  tired  aftei 
this  long  ride." 

lie  heaved  a  sigh  and  tried  to  look  utterly  fagged 
out  as  he  noticed  how  admirably  that  tack  succeeded. 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  girl  im 
pulsively.  "  I  thought  you  were  a  lawyer  or  a  sheriff, 
or  perhaps  a  man  from — Boston."  She  could  hardly 
pronounce  the  name  of  the 'cultured  city.  It  stuck 
in  her  throat. 

"  I  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  tone  of  reproach.  "  Not  at  all," 
he  answered,  laughing.  "  I  told  you  that  I  have 
come  from  Sunshine,"  he  added,  blandly. 

The  girl,  taking  his  negative  as  a  reply  to  all  her 
doubts,  now  opened  the  gate  hospitably. 

"  Forgive  my  rudeness,  sir,  and  come  in  and  sit 
awhile,"  she  said,  as  prettily  as  a  woman  could. 
"  I'll  ask  Aunt  McCorkle  to  get  you — something. 
Would  you  take  a  glass  of  milk  ?" 

She  blushed  as  she  remembered  her  empty  wine 
cellar.  With  a  well-feigned,  languid  air,  which  he 
could  hardly  maintain,  so  boisterously  the  blood 
surged  through  his  veins,  Ellesworth  walked  up  to 
the  piazza  and  sat  down. 

He  looked  about  him  in  a  bewildered  way.  The 
passionless  white  camellia  blooming  by  his  side 
seemed  singularly  out  of  place.  He  thought  of  the 
intoxicating  Jacqueminot  roses  he  used  to  order  at 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  231 

Halvin's  for  that  chilly  Boston  girl  he  tried  to  love 
and  couldn't.  The  red  camellia  had  more  of  this 
splendid  Southern  creature's  color,  but  that  too, 
with  its  waxen,  expressionless  petals,  had  no  busi 
ness  there  either.  It  exasperated  him.  It  looked 
at  him  coolly  and  sarcastically  as  if  that  which  hap 
pens  to  a  man  but  once  in  his  life  had  not  come 
to  him. 

Aunt  McCorkle  appeared  with  the  glass  of  milk. 
She  was  a  vague  Southern  gentlewoman,  gentle 
and  faded  and  appealing.  She  was  just  what  he 
expected  the  daughter  of  William  Benson  to  be. 
lie  thought  of  the  middle-aged  and  elderly  Boston 
dames  with  their  strong  profiles  and  keen  eyes  and 
decisive  opinions  of  reforms  and  literature  and 
charity.  Any  one  of  them  might  have  put  out  her 
arms  and  have  taken  Mrs.  McCorkle  up  in  her 
lap  and  trotted  her  to  sleep.  Yet  Ellesworth  liked 
the  Southern  lady.  Already  he  felt  a  queer  move 
ment  of  the  heart  toward  Georgiella  Benson's 
"  relations." 

"  Is  it  lung  trouble  ?  "  inquired  Aunt  McCorkle 
sympathetically.  The  girl  came  out  of  the  house  at 
this  moment  and  sat  down  on  the  veranda  under 
the  while  camellia.  She  glanced  at  her  guest  with 
interest. 

"  The  doctors  think  I  shall  come  out  all  right  if  I 


232  TIIE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

am  careful  of  myself,"  replied  Ellesworth,  evasively. 

"  It  is  hard  to  be  sick,"  said  Georgiella  sincerely. 
Illness  and  death  had  touched  her  so  lately  and  so 
cruelly  that  she  could  not  help  feeling  sorry  for  the 
sick  young  man. 

"  I  have  just  ridden  over  from  Sunshine,  where  I 
am  living  now,''  explained  Elles  worth  again,  although 
his  conscience  gave  him  a  twinge.  He  hurried  on : 
"  You  see,  I'm  looking  for  a  quiet  place  to  board  in." 
He  made  a  diplomatic  pause.  "  The  Sunshine  Hotel 
is  too  noisy,  what  with  billiards  and  bowling  and 
late  dances  ;  so  I  rode  over  here  to  look  about,  and 
an  old  lady  with  a  pipe  told  me  you  lived  here." 

"*That  was  Aunt  Betsey,"  said  the  girl  decisively. 
"  But  we  never  took  boarders,"  with  a  stately 
drawing  up  of  her  head,  "  why  should  she  send  you 
here  ?  " 

"My  dear,"  protested  Mrs.  McCorkle  mildly, 
"  the  Randolphs  of  Sunshine  took  boarders  last 
winter ;  and  I  suppose  we  could  get  Aunt  Betsey  to 
cook."  She  rose  to  carry  away  Elles worth's  glass, 
and  beckoned  to  the  girl  to  follow  her.  Evidently 
the  two  poor  ladies  .whispered  together  in  the  hall, 
consulting  upon  the  awful  problem  suddenly 
presented  to  their  empty  pockets  and  plethoric 
pride.  They  came  out  on  the  veranda  again,  and 
Mrs.  McCorkle  asked  him  point  blank  what  his 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  233 

name  was.  Without  perceptible  hesitation  he  re 
plied  : 

"Bigelow,  madam.  Frank  Bigelow."  The  mi- 
imagined  value  of  a  middle  name  suddenly  presented 
itself  to  the  young  man's  mind,  and  his  conscience 
slipped  behind  the  camellias  and  made  no  protest. 
A  very  irreligious  baby,  black  in  the  face  from 
howling,  had  been  indeed  baptized  Francis  Bigelow 
in  King's  Chapel,  twenty-nine  years  ago — and  had 
since  bought  a  mortgage  on  the  Benson  property. 

"  Couldn't  you  take  me  ?  It's  a  case  of  charity," 
he  pleaded,  turning  to  the  girl  beside  him.  "  It's 
so  noisy  at  the  hotel,  I  can't  sleep." 

This  last  shot  went  straight  to  the  mark.  Sym 
pathy  and  need  are  powerful  partners,  and  they 
worked  together  for  Ellesworth's  case  in  the  hearts 
of  the  two  poor,  lonely  women. 

It  is  only  in  the  South  that  one  can  find  women — 
ladies,  and  who  dress  like  ladies,  and  who  hardly 
have  ten  dollars  in  cash  the  year  round.  The 
mystery  of  the  maintenance  of  their  existence  is  not 
solved  outside  the  walls  of  their  own  homes.  Proud, 
refined  and  shy,  they  divulge  nothing.  Who  is  a 
boarder  that  he  should  think  to  comprehend  the 
pathetic  ingenuity  of  their  eventless  lives  ? 

"  Are  you  connected  with  the  Bigelows  of  Charles 
ton  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  McCorkle,  softly. 


234  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

"I  think  we  must  be  another  branch,"  replied 
Ellesworth,  boldly. 

"  I  will — I  would  pay  you,"  added  Ellesworth, 
blushing,  "  just  what  they  would  charge  me  at  the 
Sunshine  Hotel,  if  that  would  be  satisfactory." 

"  How  much  is  that,  Mr.  Bigelow  ?  "  inquired  Mrs. 
McCorkle,  reddening  too. 

"  Twenty-five  dollars  a  week.  " 

"  That  is  too  much.  "VVe  should  think  that 
enough  for  a  month,"  said  the  girl,  turning  her  won 
derful  face  upon  her  visitor. 

"  I  could  not  think  of  giving  less,"  he  insisted. 
Still  he  did  not  look  at  her. 

"  Perhaps,"  admitted  Mrs.  McCorkle  with  a  sigh, 
"  we  might  take  you,  sir,  seeing  that  you  are  one  of 
the  Bigelow  family — on  trial." 

"I  will  come,"  returned  Ellesworth,  quickly, 
looking  straight  at  Georgiella,  "  I  will  come  next 
Monday — on  trial. 

"  You  won't  look  upon  me  as  a  sheriff,  will  you  ?  " 
he  added,  as  he  mounted  at  the  gate,  to  ride  back  to 
his  hotel. 

The  girl  shook  her  head,  as  he  looked  down  at 
her  quizzically. 

"  That  was  very  stupid  of  me.  My  mind  has  been 
full  of  my  trouble.  I  have  dreamed  about  it,  and 
hate  the  man  who  holds  that  mortgage. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  235 

u  Please  do  not  think  of  it  any  more.  And  when 
you  come,  sir,  perhaps  you  can  advise  us  what  to 
do." 

Elles  worth  looked  at  her  gravely.  What  would 
the  following  week,  and  the  next,  and  the  winter 
bring  forth? 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said  in  a  whisper  that  might  have 
come  from  the  Delphian  oracle ;  and  then  he  can 
tered  away. 

For  the  first  time  since  her  father's  death,  Georg- 
iella  sang  that  afternoon  as  she  walked  about  the 
garden  teasing  her  plants  to  bloom. 


It  was  Monday,  the  fifteenth  of  December.  Mrs. 
McCorkle  ushered  Ellesworth  upstairs  into  his  own 
room  in  the  cottage  mortgaged  in  his  own  name. 
The  sun  poured  into  it  like  a  living  blessing.  The 
rose-bush  enveloped  the  windows,  and  when  the  sash 
was  raised,  delicate  tendrils  insinuated  themselves 
within,  as  if,  in  Southern  fashion,  they  would  "  shake 
howdy."  The  room  wras  dainty  and  home-like.  It 
flashed  across  Ellesworth  as  he  sank  into  the  cush 
ioned  rocking-chair  with  a  long  breath  of  content, 
that  it  might  have  been  Georgiella's.  It  was  in  the 
dreamy  part  of  the  day.  The  sun  was  dipping 
under  the  high  branches  of  the  pines.  Then  the 


230  THE  HOMAXCK  OF  A 

luxury  of  leaning  out  of  the  window  in  December ! 
He  could  not  help  but  think  of  it  as  his  sun,  and  his 
garden  and  his  trees.  And  now  Georgiella  came 
out,  bareheaded,  and  swept  the  pine  needles  and 
leaves  from  the  narrow  box-bordered  path,  and 
snipped  dead  branches  from  the  shrubs,  and  then 
before  she  went  to  feed  the  chickens  she  cast  up  at 
him  a  shy  glance  that  made  his  heart  leap  within 
him.  He  did  not  leave  his  room  until  he  was  called 
to  supper.  His  fancy  was  feverish,  and  kept  pictur 
ing  his  mortgaged  girl  in  a  Boston  drawing-room, 
thrilling  all  the  people  he  knew  with  her  beauty. 
He  called  it  carmine  beauty  ;  but  he  was  young  and 
ardent. 

lie  felt  it  when  he  first-saw  her,  but  that  eventful 
afternoon  he  formulated  it  and  repeated  it  over  and 
over  again  until  he  became  dizzy — "  I  love  her !  I 
love  her  !  "  And  then  visions  of  work  and  strength 
and  success,  and  ambitions  that  had  been  stifled, 
began  to  spring  within  him  like  blades  from  watered 
bulbs.  The  electric  shock  had  come.  lie  knew  it. 
He  meant  to  spring  to  it  like  a  man. 

Dreamily  he  dressed  for  supper,  and  dreamily  de 
scended.  Mrs.  McCorkle  greeted  him  with  her  fine, 
thin  manner.  The  young  man  looked  about  him 
curiously.  Aunt  Betsey  waited  on  the  table.  He 
tried  not  to  think  of  her  hospitality  in  the  matter  of 


TILE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE  237 

snuff.  The  room  was  worn  and  bare  and  gray ;  so 
bereft  of  all  but  the  most  necessary  furniture  that 
its  few  ornaments  had  a  startling  conspicuousness. 
He  noticed  a  fat  Chinese  vase  set  up  like  an  idol  in 
an  old  escritoire.  Over  the  mantel  was  a  glass-case 
religiously  protecting  some  coins  and  ancient  papers. 
A  rusty  sword  hung  on  the  wall.  Biographies  of 
Lee  and  Jackson,  flanking  the  Chinese  fat  vase  in 
the  dilapidated  escritoire,  and  a  villainous  crayon 
framed  in  immortelles  upon  the  wall,  that  probably 
represented  his  deceased  debtor,  completed  the  or 
namentation  of  the  room.  Miss  Benson  entered 
when  he  had  gone  as  far  as  this,  and  vivaciously 
exhibited  the  bric-a-brac  of  the  room. 

"  This  is  a  Ming."  She  pointed  to  the  fat  vase. 
"I  understand  there  isn't  another  like  it  in  the 
country.  It  belongs  to  the  Ming  dynasty." 

Although  from  Boston,  Ellesworth  was  not  fa 
miliar  with  the  Ming  dynasty,  but  he  bowed  and 
feebly  ejaculated, — 

"  Ah  !  this  is  a  real  Ming,  is  it  ?  v 

"  And  there,"  said  the  young  lady,  bringing  him 
before  the  glass-case,  "  are  family  possessions.  That 
is  a  coin  of  George  II.;  those  are  Pine-tree  shillings  ; 
those  yellow  papers  are  two  copies  of  a  continental 
newspaper,  and  this  is  the  South  Carolinian  conti 
nental  penny," 


238  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

Ellesworth  inspected  the  treasures  gravely.  He 
did  his  best  not  to  smile. 

"Very  remarkable!"  he  murmured.  "How 
Southern  !  "  he  thought. 

"Colonel  Tom  Garvin  says  there  are  nothing  like 
them  in  the  country.  I  suppose  they  would  bring 
a  great  deal  if  sold,"  she  added,  wistfully.  "  But 
we  don't  like  to  sell  them.  Besides,  we  never  saw 
anybody  who  wanted  to  buy  them.'*' 

Acquaintance  under  one  roof  passes  quickly  into 
intimacy.  Love  moves  with  fleet  feet  when  two 
young  people  breakfast  and  dine  together  with  a 
vague  chaperone.  A  tropical  garden,  soft  evenings 
and  youthful  impetuosity  shorten  the  span  to  ex 
perience  thought  necessary  to  precede  an  engage 
ment. 

Georgiella  was  the  soul  of  domestic  comfort — 
as  Southern  women  are.  She  was  a  high-spirited, 
variable,  bewitching  creature.  At  first,  the  North 
erner  could  not  understand  her  indifference  to  her 
obligations  as  a  mortgager.  Why  did  she  not  sell 
the  Ming  vase  ?  She  looked  upon  debt  not  as  a  dis 
grace,  but  as  an  inconvenience.  Foreclosure  pro 
ceedings  were  under  way,  and  it  never  occurred  to 
the  two  women  to  stop  them  with  even  a  part  of  the 
fifty  dollars  which  Ellesworth  paid  for  his  board 
in  advance.  When  Ellesworth  found  out  that 


THE  EOMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  239 

this  trait  was  not  a  pauper's,  but  like  Georgiella's 
strange  beauty,  constitutional,  he  forbore  to  criticise 
it.  In  truth,  he  was  too  much  in  love  now  to  criti 
cise  the  girl  at  all.  It  is  probable  that  if  she  had 
robbed  his  pocketbook  he  would  have  merely  said, 
"How  interesting  !  it  is  her  tropical  way." 

A  day  or  two  before  Christmas  he  drove  over  to 
Sunshine  and  returned  with  a  happy,  tired  face. 

"  You  would  take  a  Christmas  present  from  me, 
wouldn't  you?"  he  asked  with  unprecedented 
humility. 

"  It's  in  a  paper,"  he  explained. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  uncomfortably,  for  she 
felt  his  serious  look  upon  her. 

«  if  s— eh— a  trifle  that  I  think  you  will  like,"  re 
plied  Ellesworth  without  a  smile. 


Christmas  came  cheerfully  into  the  mortgaged 
house.  Georgiella  cried  a  little  for  her  father's 
sake.  In  spite  of  her  bereavement,  and  of  the  fact 
that  she  was  sure  the  sheriff  would  attach  the 
house  that  day  of  all  others,  she  did  not  feel  very 
wretched.  She  felt  that  she  was  wicked  because 
she  was  so  happy.  There  were  wings  in  her  heart. 

It  was  not  the  custom  to  hang  up  stockings  at  the 
Benson's. 


240  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

"  My  things  have  always  been  put  into  the  Ming 
vase,"  Georgiella  explained,  "  and  the  others  went 
on  the  breakfast  table." 

She  did  not  look  at  El les worth  often.  Her  eyes 
dropped.  Her  cheeks  were  like  red  camellias.  She 
felt  in  a  hurry  all  of  the  time.  The  young  man 
himself  took  the  situation  out  in  looking  at  his 
watch.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  world  were 
turning  over  too  fast.  He  thought  of  what  he  meant 
to  do  stolidly,  notwithstanding. 

They  went  out  and  gathered  mistletoe  in  the 
swamps.  He  climbed  trees  and  tore  his  hands  and 
fell  into  the  water  with  zest.  They  brought  home 
a  barrelful  of  it.  lie  thought  lio\v  lie  luid  bought 
it  at  twenty-five  cents  a  spray  on  Washington 
street.  He  held  a  great  branch  of  it  behind  Georgi 
ella  over  her  head,  and  looked  at  her.  She  started 
like  a  wild  animal,  arid  kept  ahead  of  him  all  the 
way  home. 

On  Christmas  morning  Ellesworth  got  up  early- 
he  had  hardly  slept ;  he  could  not  rest,  and  went 
softly  downstairs.  The  door  into  the  dining-room 
was  open,  and  she  was  there  before  him.  She  stood 
before  the  Ming  vase.  The  mistletoe  branch  to 
which  he  had  fastened  his  present,  and  which  he 
had  set  into  the  vase  to  look  like  a  little  Christmas 
tree,  lay  tossed  beneath  her  feet.  The  pearly  white 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  241 

berries  were  scattered  on  the  floor.  The  mortgage 
was  in  her  hand — trust  deeds,  principal  notes, 
interest  notes,  insurance  policy.  She  was  turning 
the  papers  over  helplessly.  She  looked  scared  and 
was  quite  pale.  Her  bosom  heaved  boisterously. 
She  heard  him  and  confronted  him.  She  managed 
to  stammer  out, — 

"  What,  sir,  does  this  mean  ?  " 

It  required  a  brave  man  to  tell  her  in  her  present 
mood  ;  but  he  did. 

"  It  oiily  means  that  I  love  you,"  said  Ellesworth 
point  blank. 

The  girl  went  from  blinding  white  to  blazing 
crimson,  but  she  stood  her  ground,  The  mortgage 
papers  shook  in  her  hands.  He  thought  that  she 
was  going  to  tear  them  up.  To  gain  time,  for  he 
dared  not  approach  her,  he  stooped  and  picked  up 
the  disdained  mistletoe.  When  he  had  raised  him 
self  she  shot  out  this  awful  question,  looking  at  him 
as  she  did  when  they  first  met. 

"  Are  you— Re  f  " 

The  young  man  bowed  his  head  before  her.  If 
he  had  set  fire  to  her  place,  or  robbed  her  father's 
grave,  she  could  not  have  regarded  him  with  a  more 
crushing  scorn.  She  tried  to  speak  again,  but  her 
passion  choked  her. 

"  I — I  give  you  back  your  home,"  he  protested 
16 


242  THE  ROMA.\CE  OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

humbly.  "It  is  mine  no  longer.  It  is  your  own 
Don't  blame  me.  I  love  you." 

"  My  father  did  not  bring  me  up  to  take  valuable 
presents  from — Boston — gentlemen!"  blazed  the 
Southern  girl. 

She  waved  him  aside,  swept  by  him  without 
another  look,  and  melted  out  of  the  room.  But  he 
noticed  that  she  took  the  mortgage  papers  with 
her. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  he  threw  himself 
upon  the  mercy  of  Mrs.  McCorkle. 

"  I  have  a  right,"  he  said  ;  "  I  want  to  make  her 
my  wife." 

"  Georgiella  is  not  behaving  prettily,"  said  Mrs. 
McCorkle  severely.  "  If  a  Northerner  docs  act  like 
a  gentleman,  the  least  a  Southern  girl  can  do  is  to 
behave  like  a  lady.  I  will  speak  to  Georgiella,  sir." 

Georgiella  came  to  the  Christmas  dinner  with 
blazing  eyes.  She  ate  in  silence,  looking  like  an 
offended  goddess,  dressed  in  an  old  black  silk  gown 
of  her  mother's  trimmed  with  aged  Valenciennes 
lace. 

But  after  dinner  she  stayed  in  the  dining-room 
while  Mrs.  McCorkle  and  Aunt  Betsey  went  into 
the  kitchen.  She  walked  up  to  the  Ming  vase  and 
stood  before  it.  Ellesworth  followed  her. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  it  over,"  she  began  ab- 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  MORTGAGE.  243 

ruptly  in  a  quaint  affectation  of  a  business-like  tone. 
"  I  will  keep  the  mortgage — thank  you,  sir.  It  is 
my  home,  you  know,"  she  put  in  pugnaciously. 
"  But  I  will  pay  for  it,  if  you  please." 

"  Pay  for  it !  "  gasped  Elles worth. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  will  sell  you  the  Ming  vase,"  re 
turned  Miss  Benson  calmly,  "  and  the  two  Revo 
lutionary  papers,  and  the  coin  of  George  the  Second 
and  the  rest — "  She  waved  her  hand  toward  the 
glass-case.  "  You  may  take  them  to  Boston  with 
you." 

These  were  her  assets.  Ellesworth  looked  at  her 
for  a  moment,  torn  between  astonishment,  pity, 
amusement  and  love ;  but  love  got  the  better  of 
them  all,  and  he  answered  solemnly, — 

"  Yes,  I  will  take  the  Ming  vase,  and  the  Revo 
lutionary  papers,  arid  the  old  coins  and  you  too,  my 
darling  f " 

"  Well,  I  do  like  you,"  admitted  Georgiella.  Sud 
denly  she  began  to  droop  and  tremble,  and  then  to 
sob.  Then  he  held  her. 

"  You  must  give  me  a  first  mortgage ;  you  must," 
demanded  the  young  man.  "  I  must  have  every 
thing — the  whole — no  other  claims  to  come  in  from 
any  quarter  of  the  universe.  You  understand. 
You've  got  to  be  my  wife  !  "  he  exploded  in  a  kind  of 
glorious  anger. 


2-M         THE  ROMANCE   OF  A  MORTGAGE. 

She  could  not  deny  him,  for  she  thought  it  was 
the  Northern  way  of  wooing,  and  smiled  divinely. 

"And  now — may  I?"  He  took  the  mistletoe 
branch  from  the  Ming  vase  and  held  it  over  her 
head.  Their  eyes  closed  in  ecstacy. 

Mrs.  McCorkle  gave  a  funny  little  feminine 
scream  of  dismay.  She  had  heard  no  sound,  and 
had  come  in  from  the  kitchen  to  see  if  they  were 
quarreling. 

"  And  I'll  put  it  in  the  trust  deed,"  he  whispered 
humbly,  "  that  I  will  make  you  happy,  dear  !  " 

When  Ellesworth  rode  over  to  Sunshine  for  his 
next  mail  he  found  the  following  letter  awaiting 
him  : 

1111  COURT  STREET, 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  Dec.  22,  1890. 
Mr.  Francis  B.  Ellesworth : 

DEAR  FRANK, — What  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by 
countermanding  Benson's  foreclosure  at  this  time  of 
day  ?  It  makes  a  peck  of  trouble.  In  Boston  we 
are  too  busy  to  fool  with  affairs  this  way. 

Messrs.  Screw  &  Claw  desire  me  'to  enclose  their 
little  bill.  Mine  will  keep  until  you  get  here. 

Yours  truly, 

JOSEPH  TODD. 


COLONEL  ODMINTON 

A   SEQUEL   TO 

<A    REPUBLIC    WITHOUT   A   PRESIDENT." 


COLONEL  ODMINTON. 


THE  Colonel  paced  his  cabin  alone.  The  new 
expression  which  success  models  wras  becoming 
intensified  from  day  to  day  upon  his  face.  He  had 
outwitted  the  greatest  nation  in  tho  world;  he  had 
defied  the  best  detective  service  of  modern  times ; 
he  was  rich  beyond  his  dizziest  dreams ;  he  could 
aspire  to  any  position ;  he  would  be  an  eastern 
prince  perhaps,  and  drowsy-looking  girls  should 
wave  peacock  fans  and  soothe  his  memory  to  rest 
with  crooning  songs.  What  a  delicious  future  he 
saw  rising  before  him  !  His  consummate  stroke  of 
piracy  should  purchase  him  a  life  of  lotus  ease. 

The  Colonel,  had  at  last  achieved  ;  and,  as  is  too 
often  the  case  with  extraordinary  success,  his  stu 
pendous  act  had  robbed  him  of  vitality  and  in 
vention.  Already  he  felt  and  acknowledged  a 
dismemberment  of  his  will.  But  a  few  days  before, 
he  was  of  all  men,  the  most  alert,  the  most 
ingenious,  the  most  courageous,  the  most  ambi 
tious  ;  while  now,  he  lived  in  dreams,  which  he 


248  COLONEL  ODMINTON. 

evoked  as  persistently  as  the  witch  of  Endor  evoked 
the  ghost  of  Saul.  His  nature  had  undergone  a 
revolution,  in  which  he  gloried.  Had  he  been  poor, 
he  would  not  have  accepted  his  sudden  enervation 
without  a  struggle.  But  he  was  rich — thank  God ! 
rich — and  rejoiced  that  he  was  to  gratify  his  new 
born  languor. 

His  son  alone  had  access  to  his  luxurious  cabin. 
That  boy,  who  had  been  the  ready  and  ignorant 
accomplice  of  his  father's  picturesque  villainy,  had 
already  begun  to  grow  thin  with  shame.  He  saw 
his  father  transformed  from  a  virile  into  a  sleek 
man.  Hs  himself  had  changed  during  the  few  days 
of  his  knowledge  of  the  secret  from  a  pliant  boy 
into  a  silent  accusation.  The  Colonel  could  not  look 
his  son  straight  in  the  eyes.  This  was  the  first 
warning  to  his  diseased  .mind  that  he  was  not  the 
greatest  man  of  his  age. 

The  Colonel  had  moreover  a  sense  of  security  that 
unapprehended  malefactors  cannot  feel.  The  pledge 
of  the  United  States  Government  had  been  solemnly 
given.  He  could  not  be  punishsd.  His  freedom 
was  assured.  Whenever  he  paced  the  deck,  he  filled 
his  lungs  with  the  pure,  salt  air,  and  allowed  them 
to  expand  without  stint.  There  was  nothing  con 
tracted  on  his  horizon.  True,  he  had  lost  his 
country — but  he  had  gained  wealth.  He  felt  sure 
of  admiration,  and  of  some  applause.  Tie  remem- 


COLONEL  ODMINTON.  249 

bered  that  an  unextradited  bank-robber  had  pur 
chased  a  barony  from  the  King  of  Wiirtemburg,  and 
had  lived  there  much  respected.  What  position 
might  he  not  buy  with  his  American  gold  ? 

Still,  he  was  haunted  by  a  feeling  of  mingled  dis 
satisfaction  and  unrest  that  marred  the  pride  he 
felt  in  his  own  achievement.  Was  it  due  to  his 
son's  speechless  denunciation?  Or  did  it  come  from 
the  fact  that  his  authority  seemed  to  be  impaired  ? 
There  was  no  insubordination  nor  mutiny  among 
the  sailor  So  It  had  not  gone  so  far  as  that,  with 
the  well-paid  and  well-fed  men.  Perhaps  it  never 
would.  But  men  do  not  easily  obey  a  scoundrel 
or  an  outlaw  except  when  it  is  understood  that 
they  are  felons  themselves. 

In  a  certain  sense  the  crew  of  the  "Lightning"' 
rejoiced  in  their  master's  superb  feat.  The  venom 
of  piracy  had  entered  their  veins.  They  firmly 
believed  that  Colonel  Odminton  would  soon  cast  off 
his  mask,  and  turn  the  most  wonderful  product  of 
marine  architecture  into  an  irresistible  pirate  craft. 

They  dreamed  of  an  inaccessible  island — of  con 
fused  wealth,  of  many  vices,  and  unrestricted  carou 
sals.  Therefore  they  still  obeyed  readily,  but  with 
an  air  oi  abandon  that  puzzled  their  commander. 
Bat  Colonei  Odmmton  did  not  suspect  these  natural 
speculations,  for  he  was  looking  forward  to  a  life  of 
great  respectability  as  well  as  of  unrivalled  luxury. 


COLONEL  ODM1NTON. 

For  ten  days  or  so,  the  "Lightning"  danced  over 
the  Atlantic.  Of  course,  it  must  come  to  shore 
somewhere.  People  cannot  live  on  gold.  They 
must  eat.  The  superb  electric  vessel  had  ice-mak 
ing  machines;  and  retorts  for  distilling  the  salt 
water  into  fresh  ;  but  no  electrodes  were  there,  to 
reduce  wood  to  sugar  or  coal  to  beef.  The  Colonel 
felt  his  cheek  sting  with  the  excitement  of  coming 
to  land.  At  the  same  time  he  felt  a  reluctance  to 
do  so.  He  dreaded  to  meet  men.  He  could  not  ex 
pel  the  consciousness  that  is  common  to  all  culprits, 
— namely,  the  feeling  that  he  would  be  the  centre 
of  observation.  He  could  not  be  apprehended  ;  but 
supposing  that  he  were  not  well  received  ? 

On  the  other  hand,  when  the  crew  learned  of  the 
decision  to  make  for  land,  they  were  almost  riotous 
with  joy.  They  were  mad  for  the  long-delayed 
chance  to  spend  their  high  wages  in  vice  and  drink. 
If  nations  would  conspire  to  pass  an  international 
law  to  prohibit  women  and  rum  at  every  port, 
what  a  magnificent  stride  to  uninterrupted  man 
hood  all  sailors  would  be  forced  to  take ! 

But  Captain  Hans  Christian  shook  his  head  as 
the  "  Lightning  "  forged  toward  the  land. 

There  wrere  some  traits  that  Rupert  did  not  in 
herit.  His  limpid  heart  understood  the  disgrace  of 
his  position,  He  pined  for  freedom  and  gradually 
wasted  away.  With  feverish  eyes  he  watched  for 


COLONEL  OD  MINT  ON.  251 

the  English  coast.  It  is  possible  that  he  had,  bereft 
,  of  an  honest  father,  meditated  desertion  at  his  first 
opportunity. 

Now,  at  last,  they  sighted  land.  The  vessel  that 
was  swifter  than  all  other  ships  afloat,  was  undis 
guised.  The  Colonel  had  no  thought  of  converting 
her  into  the  "  Mary  Jane  "  again.  No  flight,  no  con 
cealment  was  now  necessary.  It  was  just  past 
sunrise  when  the  "  Lightning "  glided  into  the 
troubled  harbor  of  Penzance. 

The  inhabitants  of  Land's  End  are  no  stay-a-beds, 
and  when  the  oil-skinned  fishermen,  who  were 
ready  to  push  their  boats  off  in  the  rising  tide,  lifted 
up  their  eyes  and  beheld  the  graceful  monster  mys 
teriously  undulating  in,  with  no  help  of  sails  or 
steam,  they  called  to  each  other,  they  uttered  dire 
ful  exclamations,  and  they  assembled  in  ever  increas 
ing  groups  upon  the  sands.  One  ran  to  the  public 
house  and  brought  back  to  the  throng  a  greasy 
proclamation,  upon  which  the  picture  of  a  vessel 
was  stamped. 

Upon  the  cliffs,  red-coats  pointed  to  the  stranger, 
and  shook  their  heads  ominously. 

Before  the  "  Lightning  "  had  dropped  her  anchor, 
the  whole  population  of  Penzance  was  out,  gesticu 
lating,  pointing,  execrating. 

"  That's  she,  sure  enough.  That's  her  sheer  in  the 
pictur'.  Them's  the  di-mensions  given.  Blast  the 


252  COLONEL  ODMINTON. 

pirates!     Old  England  hain't  no  place  for  them." 

"  'Ere,  Bill !  you  get  the  Colonel  down.  We'll 
send  'em  buzzin'  to  Davy  Jones'  locker  if  they  ven- 
tur'  ashore  here  !  "  • 

The  "Lightning"  had  come  to  anchor  without 
colors  at  her  stern.  As  she  had  no  mast,  there  was 
no  opportunity  to  fly  a  signal  at  her  head,  or  the 
Union  Jack  at  her  peak.  After  the  manner  of 
steam  yachts  she  had  a  pole  that  could  be  fitted  in 
a  raking  position  aft. 

"As  it  isn't  eight  bells,  we  need  no  flags,"  ex 
plained  Colonel  Odminton. 

"  Shall  we  fly  the  Union  Jack,  then  ?"  asked  Cap 
tain  Hans  Christian. 

The  Colonel  changed  color.  "  Fly  ?  "  he  snarled, 
«By-  -!  Fly  nothing!" 

The  men  on  board  had  noticed  the  confusion  on 
the  shore.  They  thought  little  of  it. 

When  they  had  escaped  down  the  Potomac  with 
the  ransom,  they  forgot  that  a  hundred  cameras  were 
trained  upon  them.  Even  their  stupendous  speed 
could  not  outstride  the  sensitive  plate  that  can  catch 
a  perfect  likeness  in  one  two-thousandth  part  of  a 
second.  The  duplex  shutter  is  craftier  than  the 
criminal.  The  camera  can  outwit  the  cannon  ball. 

It  did  not  occur  to  the  Colonel  that  the  United 
States  Government  would  send  proclamations  to 
every  friendly  nation  in  the  world,  begging  each  to 


COLONEL  ODMINTON.  2-") 3 

distribute  them  broadcast  to  every  port ;  and  that 
these  contained  a  reproduced  picture  of  Colonel  Od- 
minton's  venture,  with  a  description  of  himself ;  call 
ing  upon  the  nations  to  do  him  no  harm,  but  to  grant 
him  no  hospitality  whatever.  While  the  Colonel 
was  dawdling  across  the  water,  the  telegraph  and 
the  swift  "  Liners,"  had  alarmed  the  world. 

There  was  neither  admiration  nor  mercy  in  the 
hearts  of  the  millions  who  were  watching  for  the 
"  Lightning's  "  appearance.  For  once,  there  were  no 
sentimental  women  waiting  to  cosset  the  bandit. 
He  had  held  the  President's  wife  his  prisoner.  At 
last  the  soft  heart  of  womanhood  was  turned  to 
stone. 

In  short,  Colonel  Odminton  and  his  crew  were 
declared  outcasts  from  the  world;  and  even  the 
most  abandoned  nations  sprang  to  the  appeal  of 
the  United  States,  and  stood  ready  to  enforce  the 
decree. 

Colonel  Odminton  watched  his  launch  approach 
ing  the  beach.  He  had  not  allowed  his  son  to  go, 
and  the  two  stood  together  facing  the  enraged 
town.  Already  the  coast  guards  were  drawn  up, 
awaiting  the  launch.  When  it  had  come  within 
fifty  yards  of  the  pier,  the  man  in  command,  cried : 
— "  Stop  her  !  "  in  a  loud  voice. 

Captain  Christian  obeyed  quickly.  He  and  his 
crew  were  near  enough  to  see  that  the  hand  of 


254  COLONEL  OI>ML\T<,.\. 

every  inhabitant  had  grasped  a  stone,  ready  to  hurl. 
Hate  distorted  the  faces  of  the  honest  Englishmen, 
who  traditionally  loathed  a  pirate  worse  than  a 
papist. 

"  We  will  give  yon  half  an  hour,  to  leave  the 
harbor  !  "  bawled  the  Captain  at  the  launch.  "  My 
orders  are  to  fire  upon  every  one  of  yon  who  at 
tempts  to  land.  There  is  no  landing  for  pirates  on 
England's  shores.  Get  out !  " 

"  I) ye.  get  out ! "  The  refrain  was  caught  up 

from  throat  to  throat  and  hurled  at  the  frightened 
sailors.  The  shouts  reached  to  the  vessel,  until  the 
Colonel  easily  understood  their  import.  But  neither 
he  nor  his,  as  yet,  knew  that  the  sight  of  this 
beautiful  vessel  would  raise  a  similar  howl  of  hate, 
alike  demonstration  of  hostility,  in  every  port  from 
China,  westward  to  San  Francisco. 

Hastily  he  gave  orders  to  trip  the  anchor :  in  ten 
minutes  he  picked  up  his  men,  who  were  cursing 
civilization.  With  the  pale  skin  cramped  upon  his 
face,  with  trembling  hands  and  blinded  eyes  he 
guided  the  "  Lightning "  out  of  the  inhospitable 
harbor. 

In  an  hour  the  world  knew  what  had  happened 
at  Penzance.  The  smallest  harbor  on  the  English 
and  French  coast  thrilled  with  the  excitement  of 
the  novel  sport,  while  Colonel  Odminton  sat  in  his 
Cabin  alone,  bereft  of  his  complacency,  and  beginning 


COLONEL  ODMINTON.  255 

to  be  touched  with  the  terrors  that  the  hunted  fox 
feels  when  it  sights  the  first  hound. 

"Where  now?"  Captain  Christian  had  been 
knocking  gently,  and  now  opened  his  commander's 
door  for  orders.  The  Captain  was  a  cautious  man, 
and  was  the  only  one  on  board,  who  by  reason  of  his 
temperament,  felt  the  serious  position  to  the  full. 

Colonel  Odminton  turned  his  head  moodily,  and 
scowled  at  his  Captain. 

"  To  hell  with  you !  "  he  ejaculated. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Captain  Christian  respectfully, 
"  but  we  cannot  get  provisions  there." 


It  was  deepest  night  when  a  gargling  thud,  a 
splash  of  returning  waters,  a  rushing  of  chain,  told 
that  another  anchor  had  been  dropped,  and  that 
another  vessel  had  found  rest  in  the  harbor  of  Brest. 
Her  side  lights  were  quickly  extinguished,  and  a 
white  light  at  her  bow  as  she  swung  to  the  tide, 
told  curious  eyes,  if  there  were  any,  that  the  stranger 
was  snug  for  the  night.  Four  bells  tinkled  here 
and  tinkled  there,  nor  did  the  new-comer  omit  the 
resonant  salutation  to  Father  Time. 

To  starboard  and  to  port,  great  hulls,  not  many 
hundred  feet  away,  could  be  distinguished  by  the 
sharpest  eyes,  rising  blacker  than  the  night.  The 
Mediterranean  squadron  of  France  had  but  made 


1156  COLONEL  ODMINTON. 

port  the  day  before,  and  were  due  in  Cherbourg  on 
the  morrow.  The  last  patient  launch  had  brought 
the  last  gay  officer  aboard,  and  peace  commanded 
the  formidable  fleet. 

Tli  rough  the  port-holes,  veiled  with  silk,  a  light 
glimmered  from  the  unconscious  vessel  that  had 
just  dipped  anchor.  Colonel  Odminton,  at  that 
moment,  was  parting  the  curtains  from  his  son's 
bed,  and  was  regarding  him  with  conflicting  expres 
sions.  The  lad  slept  restlessly,  and  under  his 
father's  eyes  began  to  toss  and  mutter.  Fearing  to 
waken  him,  the  unhappy  man  withdrew  softly  to 
his  own  cabin.  There  he  poured  himself  out  a  full 
glass  of  brandy  and  began  to  pace  the  floor  furiously. 

It  was  a  changed  face  that  looked  apprehen 
sively  at  the  door  every  time  the  timbers  creaked 
in  the  chop  of  the  sea.  He  was  no  longer  the 
elegant,  complacent,  and  successful  criminal;  he 
was  the  bandit  at  bay.  He  was  distrustful,  sus 
picious,  ready  for  revenge.  If  he  had  only  had 
(latling  guns  aboard,  he  would  have  taught  the 
inhabitants  of  Penzance  a  costly  lesson  for  their 
threats  and  curses.  Now,  for  the  first  time  he 
rebelled  against  his  lineage,  and  hated  Englishmen 
and  England  with  a  virulent  abhorrence. 

But  France  was  different.  Tolerant  blood  ran  in 
her  veins.  Here  he  felt  secure  from  insult.  The  na 
tion  that  had  died  in  ecstasy  under  the  nod  of  Xapo- 


COLONEL  ODMINTON.  257 

leon,  could  not  be  otherwise  than  liberal  to  him. 
Colonel  Odminton  did  not  exactly  expect  a  reception 
by  the  President  of  the  Republic ;  but  he  did  look 
forward  to  a  respectful  and  harmless  curiosity  that 
would  titillate  his  pride  and  remove  the  memory  of 
his  indignities. 

His  face  began  to  assume  a  more  benevolent 
expression,  and  the  cowering,  snarling  look  which 
comes  to  those  who  find  themselves  detested  for 
good  reasons,  and  thrust  out,  gave  way  to  one  of 
hope,  such  as  comes  to  the  convict  when  his  term 
of  imprisonment  is  nearly  over. 

Soothed  by  such  imaginations,  the  Colonel  smiled 
with  disdain,  snapped  his  finger  at  all  the  world, 
furtively  examined  his  secret  safe,  and  went  to  bed. 

It  did  not  seem  to  him  that  he  had  been  slumber 
ing  as  many  minutes  as  he  had  hours,  when  he  was 
startled  by  a  violent  tramping  upon  the  deck  above 
him,  by  the  clanking  revolutions  of  the  machinery 
that  hoisted  the  anchor,  and  then,  before  he  had 
mastered  his  laggard  senses,  by  imperative  knocks 
at  his  door.  Colonel  Odminton  pulled  the  spring,  and 
his  Captain  bounded  in.  Terror  was  engraved  on 
every  line  of  that  usually  calm  and  observant  face. 

"  For  God's  sake ! "  he  cried  in  broken  English 
and  Danish, "  we  are  to  be  blown  up  in  ten  minutes  !  " 
TTis  jaws  chattered  without  saying  any  more.  He 

was  stiff  with  fear. 

17 


258  COLONEL  OmilNTON. 

With  inconceivable  rapidity  Colonel  Odininton 
thrust  himself  into  his  clothes  and  rushed  upon 
deck.  lie  had  not  time  to  put  on  his  cap,  and  as  he 
emerged  in  the  rosy  light  of  the  breaking  sun,  his 
bare  head  was  seen  in  all  its  now  notorious  charac 
teristics.  A  cry  greeted  him. 

Encompassed  about  by  the  huge  mastiffs  of  war, 
more  formidable  than  any  tiling  the  vaunted  navy 
of  the  United  States  could  boast,  the  toy  terrier 
shivered. 

At  the  earliest  dawn,  the  look-out  upon  the  "  For 
midable"  had  discerned  the  stranger,  and  had  re 
ported  the  suspicious-looking  vessel  to  his  superior 
officer. 

The  French  Republic,  so  friendly  to  the  Govovn- 
ment  of  the  United  States,  had  eagerly  distributed 
placards  describing  the  nefarious  Colonel  and  his 
yacht.  But  yesterday,  copies  had  been  delivered 
into  the  hands  of  the  officers  of  the  squadron' with 
orders  to  keep  a  sharp  watch  for  the  outlaw.  He 
was  not  to  be  harmed,  but  to  be  driven  away  from 
France,  if  necessary,  at  the  torpedo's  breath. 

The  Admiral  gave  quick  orders,  which  were  en 
thusiastically  obeyed.  A  fleet  of  launches  were  now 
untethered  upon  the  "  Lightning." 

"  Xo  masts !  Xo  steam !  Propelled  by  electricity !  • 
It  is  she !  "  Such  exclamations  mixed  with  oaths 


COLONEL  ODMINTON.  259 

were  exchanged  "by  the  Frenchmen  as  they  sur 
rounded  Colonel  Odminton's  venture. 

"  Ahoy  there !  "  cried  an  officer. 

The  sleepy  Scandinavian  in  the  Colonel's  pay 
made  no  answer.  lie  scowled  at  France  vindic 
tively. 

"  I  know  you.  I  give  you  ten  minutes  to  depart. 
Va  t'en  !  Sacre  Nom  do  Dieu,  if  you  ever  appear  on 
ze  coast  of  France  again,  pouf !  sink !  " 

By  this  time  the  Colonel  had  appeared  011  deck. 
The  French  natives,  a  hundred  of  them,  within  less 
than  a  biscuit's  throw  of  the  most  eminent  male 
factor  of  the  age,  gazed  at  him  curiously,  and  then 
burst  into  a  medley  of  curses. 

As  these  envenomed  oaths  struck  Colonel  Odmin- 
ton,  he  staggered  as  if  he  had  been  slapped  in  the 
face.  Carbines  were  levelled  at  him  threateningly ; 
but  the  French  officers  imperiously  gave  orders  for 
all  weapons  to  be  laid  aside. 

By  this  time,  Captain  Hans  had  the  anchor 
raised.  Although  this  was  done  by  electricity,  still 
the  men  worked  furiously.  These  embryonic  pirates 
tottered  like  their  commander  with  an  overwhelm 
ing  fear. 

This  terrible,  this  unexpected,  this  deadly  perse 
cution — how  far  did  it  extend?  What  was  its 
origin?  Was  it  a  chance  indignation  that  had 
fomented  in  England,  and  had  leaped  the  channel, 


260  COLONEL  ODMINTON. 

or  was  it  a  decree  of  outlawry  that  was  passed  by 
all  the  world  ? 

It  was  enough  to  scatter  the  Colonel's  pride,  to 
tear  out  of  him  his  complacency.  The  proud 
Southerner  now  knew,  like  the  prisoner  at  Chillon, 
what  it  was  to  feel  the  hair  turn  white.  An  arch 
traitor  may  lose  his  own  country,  and  get  a  footing 
in  a  foreign  land,  however  contemptible  his  posi 
tion  may  be  :  but  Colonel  Odminton  and  his  crew 
had  no  country  whatever  to  turn  to.  Civilization 
had  with  one  accord  arisen  against  him.  The 
islands  of  the  sea  were  three  thousand  leagues 
away. 

Unsteadily  he  touched  the  lever  and  his  ill- 
omened  craft  forged  ahead.  As  it  did  so,  it  grazed 
the  side  of  a  boat.  "With  a  final  curse,  one  of  the  men 
in  the  launch  stood  up,  wadded  a  piece  of  paper  in 
his  hands  and  flung  it  at  the  Colonel.  It  struck 
the  malefactor  full  in  the  face.  The  paper  itself  did 
not  hurt  him,  but  that  malicious  act  was  as  fatal  to 
him  as  if  he  had  been  hit  in  the  groin  by  a  French 
bullet. 

Amid  derisive  shrieks  and  whistles  the  "  Light 
ning  "  sped  out  of  the  harbor.  The  men  upon  its 
decks  shook  their  fists  at  France,  and  cast  sinister 
looks  at  their  employer. 

As  the  Colonel  went  below,  his  face  white  as  the 
silver  poplar,  his  hands  trembling  like  leaves  in  a 


COLON  KL   ODM1NTON.  261 

storm,  he  mechanically  turned  at  the  companion-way 
and  picked  up  the  wad  of  paper  that  had  rolled  to 
the  sill.  It  was  a  copy  of  the  Proclamation  warn 
ing  every  nation  not  to  grant  him  hospitality;  in 
the  name  of  the  American  Republic. 

Two  hours  later,  the  Colonel  and  his  Captain  sat 
opposite  each  other,  talking  in  low  tones.  The 
Proclamation  lay  open  on  the  table  between  them. 

"  It  is  impossible  then  to  provision  her  at  all," 
said  the  Captain  slowly  ;  "  there  is  no  hope  for  us, 
but  to  surrender  or  starve :  disguise  is  impossible." 

The  Colonel  nodded  wearily. 

"  We  have  food  for  twenty  men  for  three  days  ; 
we  have  power  left  to  go  three  thousand  knots  at 
ten  knots  an  hour.  The  men  are  murmuring ;  where 
can  we  renew  our  power  ?  The  yacht  is  useless  in 
two  weeks." 

"It  is  lucky,"  continued  Captain  Hans,  after  a 
pregnant  pause,  "  that  none  of  the  men  picked  up 
this  paper ;  you  would  have  been  knifed  before 
night." 

If  it  is  possible,  Colonel  Odminton  turned  a  shade 
paler,  but  he  did  not  say  anything.  The  smallest 
child  could  see  that  he  was  a  broken  man. 

What  a  trap  had  he  sprung  for  himself ! 

"  The  case  is  desperate,  sir,"  began  the  Captain 
again.  "  What  do  you  propose  ?" 


262  COLONEL  ODUIXTON. 

The  Colonel  shook  his  head  vacantly. 

"  We  can  take  the  launch,  the  men,  and  the  gold, 
abandon  her  here,  and  land  011  the  coast.  We 
might  escape  clear." 

The  Colonel  shook  his  head  vigorously.  Tie  was 
ready  to  give  up  his  life,  but  not  his  venture. 

"  Then  we  will  go,  sir.  Pay  us,  give  us  the 
launch,  and  we  will  go.  We  cannot  stay  to  be 
starved  and  tossed  upon  the  sea  with  not  even  a 
jury-mast  and  a  handkerchief." 

"  Let  them  go,  father ! "  Kupcrt  had  entered 
from  his  own  room,  and  stood  pleadingly  before  the 
criminal. 

The  unhappy  man  looked  at  his  son  :  back  at  his 
Captain ;  and  nodded  assent. 

"  Then  we  will  go  now,"  said  the  Captain  de 
cidedly.  "  We  are  within  ten  miles  of  the  coast. 
The  launch  will  carry  us  easily.  Will  you  give  us 
a  hundred  thousand  in  gold?  You  may  keep  the 
rest,  you  and  the  boy  and  the  three  niggers." 

The  Colonel  mechanically  went  to  an  inner  room, 
unlocked  a  secret  safe,  took  out  a  heavy  weight  of 
gold  and  threw  it  upon  the  table  before  the  Captain 
with  a  clang. 

The  stolen  money  was  newly  coined,  and  the  gold 
glistened  in  the  port-hole  light.  The  Captain  tied 
the  bag,  and  held  out  his  hand  as  he  arose.  He  was 
honest  after  his  kind,  though  a  masterful  man ;  but 


COLONEL  ODMINTON.  263 

the  Proclamation  had  thrown  him  upon  his  self- 
interest.  Still,  he  felt  sorry  for  the  man  whom  the 
Proclamation  had  shrivelled. 

One  of  the  Colonel's  faithful  colored  sailors  was 
sent  to  the  wheel.  For  a  half  an  hour  there  was  a 
bustle  of  chests  and  men.  There  was  a  counting  of 
gold,  and  a  commanding  and  warning  voice.  Finally 
there  was  a  splash,  as  the  powerful  launch  dipped 
into  the  water  from  its  davits.  There  was  abound 
ing  of  many  feet,  and  a  cry  to  shove  her  off. 

«  Good-bye,  Colonel !  "  one  man  shouted  ;  but  the 
rest  kept  a  silence.  They  knew  that  many  dangers 
were  before  them. 

Then  the  launch  became  a  speck  against  a  gray 

coast. 

«  Where  now,  father  ?  "  asked  Rupert  timidly. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  conception  of  his  in 
famous  deed,  the  man  looked  his  son  straight  be 
tween  the  eyes.  Both  faces  were  furrowed,  and 
worn,  and  prematurely  aged  ;  the  eyes  of  both  were 
sunken  and  rigid. 

"  Home,  my  son— home,"  said  the  Colonel  gently. 

"  Oh,  father  !  "  cried  the  lad. 

"  Kiss  me,  my  son,  if  you  care  to,  and  now  leave 


The  United  States  had  been  plunged  into  a  war 
with  Patagonia.    The  How  of  it  was  a  disgrace  to 


264  COLONEL 

the  Great  Republic.  Jingoism  had  clone  the  deed, 
and  the  mischief  of  the  matter  was  that  the  Pata- 
gonian  cruisers  outnumbered  our  own. 

There  was  scurry  in  the  navy  yards,  especially 
within  that  upon  the  Potomac.  Old,  disabled 
monitors  were  galvanized  into  the  delusion  of  life  : 
guns  were  hurried  to  bombard  an  inhospitable 
coast  thousands  of  miles  away. 

Officials  at  their  desks  were  telegraphing  cipher 
dispatches  to  England  to  furnish  vessels  of  war  on 
hire,  which  she  politely  refused  to  do.  Congress 
was  passing  an  unrestricted  maritime  bill. 

During  this  hubbub  a  very  unusual  thing  hap 
pened  to  increase  the  confusion  of  the  Navy  De 
partment  at  Washington. 

About  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  while  several 
ships  of  war  were  making  ready  for  sea,  a  foreign 
torpedo  boat  was  seen  to  ricochet  up  the  river, 
passing  by  hidden  torpedoes  as  if  she  were 
inspired,  and  then  suddenly,  with  a  swirl,  coming 
to  a  dead  halt  before  one  of  the  largest  of  the 
formidable  vessels. 

In  alarm,  the  crew  of  the  American  flagship  was 
drummed  to  arms,  and  the  gunners  were  called  to 
their  ports.  Evidently  the  virulent  torpedo-boat 
was  a  foe,  bent  to  suicide  after  she  had  destroyed. 
The  fact  that  she  carried  no  flag,  no  masts,  nothing 
but  a  bare  hull,  made  her  alarming  in  the  extreme. 


COLONEL  ODMINTON.  265 

It  was  an  apparition  of  death.  The  American  fleet 
trembled.  At  what  invincible  vessel  would  the 
bolt  be  launched  ?  Officers  paled  and  swore.  At 
this  terrible  display  of  audacity,  a  paralysis  had 
overtaken  them. 

Only  a  boy  was  visible  on  the  stern  of  the  ominous 
stranger.  He  pulled  out  a  handkerchief  and  waved 
it.  He  seemed  to  touch  a  button,  and  the  anchor 
rattled  to  its  length.  Captain  and  gnu  Tiers 
breathed  relief.  By  this  time  the  murmur  of  the 
arrival  had  spread,  and  thousands  of  quaking  men 
lined  the  wharves  to  inspect  the  mystery. 

At  last  someone  thought  of  sending  a  boat  to 
board  her.  Twenty  men  manned  a  launch  and 
steamed  out  cautiously. 

"  Ahoy,  there !  Where  do  you  belong  ? "  de 
manded  tlie  officer  in  charge  of  the  launch. 

"  I  have  a  letter  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States,"  answered  the  boy  with  quivering  lips. 

"  Whose  vessel  is  this  ?  Let  down  the  gang 
way." 

Two  black  sailors  sprang  from  the  hold  of  the 
mysterious  vessel  to  obey. 

"  She  belongs  to  the  United  States,"  replied  the 
boy.  "  Please  let  me  take  the  letter.  You  can  take 
the  boat." 

Astounded  beyond  measure,  the  officer  leaped  on 
board.  No  name  was  visible. 


266  COLONEL  ODMINTON, 

"What  is  her  name?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  She  has  none.  The  President  can  name  her. 
She  was  called  the  "  Lightning,"  said  the  boy  steadily. 

u  By !  I  might  have  known,"  cried  the  officer. 

"  Where  is  He  ?  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  He  is  not  here.  The  letter  tells,  sir.  I  am  his 
son." 

Rupert  put  both  hands  upon  the  spokes  of  the 
wheel,  and  held  his  head  up  straight.  1  le  faced  the 
officer  who  had  ordered  the  chase  when  the  "  Light 
ning"  escaped  with  his  country's  gold. 

What  thoughts  went  through  the  lad's  mind? 
Did  he  regret  this  last  and  most  quixotic  step? 
Did  he  long  to  "  up  the  anchor,"  and  give  the  signal 
to  fly  ahead?  Did  he  regret  freedom  and  law 
lessness  ?  Or  was  his  heart  that  was  broken  by 
disgrace,  healed  by  the  atonement  ? 

"Let  me  have  the  letter."  The  officer  spoke 
after  a  long  look  at  the  son  of  America's  most  ex 
ecrated  malefactor.  His  voice  was  not  harsh,  for 
he  divined  how  the  boy's  loyalty  to  his  father  and 
his  country  really  blended  into  an  emotion  which 
men  call  honor. 

Rupert  put  his  hand  to  his  breast : — 

"  My  orders  are  to  deliver  the  letter  to  the  Presi 
dent  with  my  own  hand." 

"  You  shall  do  so.     The  President  is  there." 

The  officer  pointed  to  a  high,  white  monster  of 


COLONEL  OLMINTON.  2(>7 

distinction.  "  He  is  aboard  there.  He  is  watching 
you  this  minute.  Jump  in  ! " 

The  boy  paled.  For  only  a  moment  his  courage 
deserted  him,  and  he  almost  tumbled  into  the  launch. 

A  great  crowd  of  witnesses  had  gathered  about 
the  President,  as  if  to  protect  him. 

The  word  "  assassin,"  was  whispered  from  man 
to  man.  Even  the  officer  could  not  command  an 
avenue-  to  the  Chief  Executive. 

"Let  him  be  brought,"  said  the  President  au 
thoritatively.  With  a  marine  glass  he  had  watched 
the  motions  of  the  vessel,  the  boy,  and  the  officer. 

"  I  know  him.  Give  way  there  !  Let  him  come 
alone." 

Then  the  men  formed  a  living  circle  with  the 
President  in  its  midst,  and  Rupert  stood  alone  with 
him  in  it,  with  head  bared,  and  with  a  letter  in  his 
shaking  hand. 

"  You  are  Rupert  Odminton,"  said  the  President 
distinctly,  after  a  long  searching  gaze.  "  You  have 
come  with  a  noble  purpose.  What  is  it  ?  " 

Without  answer,  with  blood  beating  a  wild  tattoo, 
the  boy  bowed  his  head  in  acquiescence.  He  handed 
the  President  the  letter.  This  the  President  took, 
and  opened  and  read.  Then  he  did  what  the  people 
will  not  soon  forget.  He  drew  the  son  of  his  captor 
towards  him,  put  his  left  hand  protectingly  upon 
the  lad's  head,  and  with  a  ringing  voice  read  the 
letter  aloud. 


268  COLONEL  ODMINTON. 

"  Mr.  President,  and  people  of  the  United  States: — I  thought 
myself  a  god,  and  know  myself  a  felon.  I,  who  meant  to 
instruct  the  people,  have  learned  a  lesson  such  as  even  death 
cannot  teach.  I  render  to  you  my  account.  My  son  will  show 
you  in  what  secret  safe  in  the  vessel  is  preserved  the  gold  that 
I  stole  from  the  Treasury.  It  belongs  to  the  Country.  There 
lack  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  dollars.  I  hereby  be 
queath  the  boat  to  the  United  States  in  payment  for  the 
balance  I  owe.  It  cost  much  more,  and  is  the  fastest  vessel  in 
the  world,  lie-christened,  it  may  be  of  service  in  the  approach 
ing  war;  and  the  stain  upon  it,  which  my  soul  tells  me  is 
indelible,  may  fade.  I  give  my  son  to  you  as  hostage  of  my 
good  faith. 

Mr.  President,  I  am  without  a  country.  I  have  no  citizen 
ship  in  the  world.  I  beg  you,  if  your  kindness  prompts  you, 
to  offer  me  pardon,  that  my  bones  may  rest  upon  the  soil  I  love. 
JVIy  son  will  guide  such  a  messenger  of  forgiveness  to  me.  Let 
him  be  sent  soon,  if  at  all,  for  my  crime  scourges  me  so  that  I 
cannot  live. 

"  ODMINTOX." 

"  He  was  no  common  man,"  said  the  Secretary  of 
State,  in  a  voice  of  great  feeling.  "  Mr.  President, 
I  suggest  that  the  pardon  be  sent  immediately.  I 
think  he  has  suffered  enough." 

The  President  smiled  benignly. 

"  Mr.  Secretary,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  head  of 
the  navy,  "  shall  we  accept  the  yacht  ?  I  think 
the  Treasury  will  find  room  for  the  gold.  Can  the 
navy  find  room  for  Colonel  Odminton's  atone 
ment?" 

The  eyes  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Xavy  glistened. 

"  With  that  vessel  fixed  into  a  torpedo  boat,  we 
can  whip  the  world  !  T  shall  put  the  youngster  as 


COLONEL  OjJMlNTON.  269 

middy  aboard  of  her ;  he  understands  her  better 
than  any  one  else.  With  your  permission,  Mr. 
President,  the  boy  is  enrolled,  and  his  commission 
will  be  made  out  at  once." 

The  Secretary  bowed  deferentially. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  enter  the  United  States  navy?" 
The  great  head  of  the  nation  bent  to  the  lad  as 
he  would  have  to  his  own  son. 

"  Oh,  sir !  But  my  father,"  cried  Rupert,  broken 
by  pride  and  shame  and  filial  love. 

"  You  will  bear  the  pardon  to-morrow,"  said 
the  President  kindly. 

"  I  would  rather  go  now.  I  think  he  needs  it," 
whispered  Rupert  timidly.  Then  the  boy,  keyed  so 
high,  fell  and  was  borne  away. 

Who  does  not  love  the  Everglades  when  he 
knows  them  ?  The  adorer  of  the  warm  woods  had 
rather  put  his  arm  about  a  palmetto,  and  his  cl^eek 
against  its  rough  surface,  than  be  softly  met  by  the 
tenderest  of  women.  Oh,  the  witchery  of  the  moss- 
waving  Everglades ! 

"  Father  !  Father  !  " 

A  longing  treble  cut  the  languorous  air. 

The  hidden  hut  behind  the  hidden  bay  Avas  empty. 

The  boy  and  the  officer  searched  hastily  and  fear 
fully. 

"  He  is  in  the  woods.     Oh,  you  know — come ! " 


270  COLONEL   ODMINTON. 

Hehind  tlie  terror-stricken  son  the  officer  plunged 
into  the  thicket.  Gloomy  shades  bin-rounded  him. 
Warm  breaths  and  new  odors  caressed  him.  Al 
most  lifted  out  of  the  body  by  these  new  sensations, 
iie  followed  with  speeding  feet. 

"Help!  Quick!''  The  shrill  voice  recalled  him. 
Before  the  officer  knew  it,  he  was  upon  a  figure 
kneeling  beside  a  body  under  a  great  tree.  . 

"Father!  Father!  He  has  forgiven  you.  It 
is  all  right !  " 

But  the  pleading  voice  of  the  lad  faltered  into  an 
awful  silence.  The  soldier  put  his  hand  upon  the 
penitent's  head.  It  was  warm.  The  dead  man's 
arms  were  outstretched  upon  the  great  tree.  His 
body  was  upon  the  huge  roots.  His  lips  were  as  if 
he  had  but  just  kissed  the  bark. 

Did  his  sin  at  the  last  restrain  him,  that  he 
dared  not  to  touch  the  soil  of  America,  and  fondle 
it  as-  his  own  ? 

He  had  died  unpardoned :  it  was  to  be,  that  he 
should  be  tortured  to  the  end.  -But  as  to  when  he 
died,  they  could  not  tell—for  his  strong  limbs  were 
set;  the  swarming  Southern  ants  had  not  des 
ecrated  him,  and  the  moaning  tree  seemed  to  be 
explaining  that  she  had  kept  him  warm  upon  her 
lap. 

He  was  buried  beneath  the  sod  to  which,  with 
the  home-sickness  of  the  true  Southerner,  he  had 


COLONEL  ODMIN'IOA.  271 

crawled  back  to  die.     They  laid  the  pardon  in  his 
folded  hands. 

The  officer  walked  out  of  the  Everglades,  with 
bared  head.  He  could  not  understand  his  own 
emotion.  But  the  weeping  lad  followed  slowly. 
He  heard  a  cadence  above  the  grave.  Rupert 
understood  it.  It  was  the  dirge  of  the  Live  Oak. 


THE    END. 


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